Rebuild What's Gone Unsteady
by LilyAyl
Summary: AU-NonEpi A series of one-shots set in a universe two years after the Battle. Hogwarts is finally ready to reopen, but first the school must overcome several trials. First was a dearth of professors. Now, someone is trying to sabotage their first day.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Rebuild What's Gone Unsteady  
**Author: **LilyAyl  
**Rating: **PG  
**Beta: **attempt-unique (thank you!!!)  
**Notes: **The title is from 'People Get Ready' by The Frames. I was lost and without title, but my beta saved me with a song. This story is set within a universe I am sharing with whatifisaidno.  
**Warnings: **None.  
**Summary: **It is two years after the final battle at Hogwarts during which Voldemort was defeated. Hogwarts has been fully repaired, de-cursed, and rebuilt and everyone is looking forward to its re-opening in the fall. There is only one problem-- professors. This story is an AU that assumes everything before the epilogue happened, while everything from the epilogue onward does not necessarily occur.

_People all get ready  
'Cos we're tearing down the stand  
Rebuild what's gone unsteady  
And see it through with newer hands  
And what has gone between us  
Is a lot, is a lot  
And who'll be there to clean us  
If you're not, if you're not_

_~"People Get Ready" by The Frames_

_This is the moment when the ride stops. The roller-coaster doesn't slow gradually, but screeches to a halt on its rails, the finish_ _only a yard away and the line out the door, winding through the maze of rope and around the building. Everyone is ready and waiting for the next adventure, but first the old one must end. The cars must somehow find their way back to a starting position. This is the aftermath, the waiting and the tension. Everyone fears that the ride is not truly over, that it will begin yet again. Everyone yearns for the simplicity of the queue or for the exhilarating moments when the cars first began to move. Everyone knows they have to work together to get the coaster back to the finish, back to start. Everyone knows that once they do, they will be free and able to try new rides with different thrills and new dangers. That is both exciting and frightening, far better than being stranded, neither moving nor fully still, frozen in limbo, and trying to handle it all. _

**The Empty List  
April 3****rd****, 2000**

In the aftermath, Hogwarts was a bastion of hope, a sanctuary. Despite the needs of Diagon Alley and other areas in the Wizarding World, repairing Hogwarts had been the first and main project of the Greenies, the volunteers of all ages with their green sashes, cheerful teasing, bright songs, and ever-moving, ever-helping wands and hands. Students and parents who'd transferred overseas for the two years the repairs required all promised to return when the school gloriously re-opened. Headmistress McGonagall had all the letters to prove it. Everyone was counting on Hogwarts. If it was okay, then maybe the whole world would be one day, too.

Hogwarts, however, was not okay. Repairs, even with so many volunteers and donations, required funds. Professors required wages and could not handle two year long sabbaticals, even if they had no other options. Even Binns had finally moved on without students filling his classes and holding him in place. Professors were also needed, their expertise more than valuable for the re-building, the slow guiding of their jumbled world back to a safe place, to a home that was just beyond reach ahead and remembered a little differently by all. Unlike the students, they had not promised to return. Instead, their letters to McGonagall contained apologies.

_I must regretfully resign. I have been offered a rare chance to..._

_...need me, but Minnie, these people need me more than any students can. Everyone is broken and if my charms can help repair that damage then..._

_...to write the book I cannot cloud my mind with students'..._

_...and with my injury I simply do not think that is possible anymore. I have told the Longbottom boy to see you._

Minerva was thankful for that last letter. At least Pomona had thought about what her absence would do and affect. She tried to recruit new professors, but the only ones interested in the salary, which was nearly half of what it used to be, and position were not people she trusted to be intelligent or able to teach young minds. She couldn't call-out for help. She couldn't let people know that Hogwarts was in danger of remaining closed, because people needed hope right then. Everyone needed something to believe in, especially with the world so changed. People believed in Hogwarts. That was Minerva's burden. She simply had to find a way to deal with it.

**Herbology**

**April 7****th****, 2000**

Neville arrived two minutes late for his meeting with the new Headmistress. When he reached her office, which was still by her classroom, not tucked away as Dumbledore's had been, her door was open and she was occupied with letters. She seemed as unaware of the time as he had been shortly before realizing he was late. Neville coughed gently and McGonagall looked up at him. She indicated a chair before her desk.

"Please sit, Mr. Longbottom. I trust Professor Sprout explained everything to you?"

"She did," he confirmed. Neville's gaze wandered over the room, the photographs of students, both living and deceased, along one wall, the blue prints, and bookshelves.

"And the salary?" Something in her tone-- a sense of defeat or an additional question-- pulled Neville's gaze to his former professor. He had never been as good a reader of people as he has been of plants, but he could see that she was worn. The past two years, and everything that came before them, have not treated her well.

"What is wrong?" he asked. He hated the part of him that grew eager now that he might something to do other than clean up messes, restock, and repair. He didn't want to be the sort of person who neglected their daisies in favor of tending their devil's snare; both were equally important.

She held his gaze for a long moment. He did not look away. She nodded and then handed him a sheet of paper. "This is the staff for this coming fall," she said.

Neville looked at the list. "What has happened?" he asked, his voice slow, wavering between anger and disbelief. "You can't open Hogwarts like this."

"A fact of which I am very aware, Mr. Longbottom."

Neville counted the number of empty positions.

Headmistress--- MM (G)  
G Head of House--  
R Head of House--  
S Head of House--  
H Head of House--  
Transfiguration-- MM (G)  
Astronomy--- A. Sinistra (R)  
Arithmancy--- S. Vector (R)  
Ancient Runes--  
Potions--  
DADA--  
Magical History--  
Muggle Studies--  
Herbology--  
CoMC--  
Divination--  
Charms--

"Why haven't you said anything?" he asked, quietly. Not even History had a name; he wondered what had happened to Professor Binns.

"People need Hogwarts to be strong. I did not think finding new staff would be so difficult." She sounded tired.

Neville wanted a better explanation. He had been part of the re-building effort for Hogwarts and had been looking forward to its reopening. She should have-- he stopped. This was not a hopeless situation-- he was well-acquainted with those. Neville looked back up McGonagall. She slouched just slightly over her papers. That cemented his decision. McGonagall had never had less than perfect posture in school. He could fix this. "I will find teachers for you," he said. "I can do it without drawing attention."

"I cannot ask you to do that, Mr. Longbottom."

"Professor Longbottom," he corrected her. As long as he was employed by the school, this was as much his problem as hers.

She smiled slightly then. "Professor," she said. "How will you find capable people who are willing to work for so little, without drawing attention?"

Neville tucked the list into his robes. "I'll ask people who can't refuse," he said. He already had one person in mind.

McGonagall removed her glasses and cleaned them with feline-like focus. When she put them back on, she looked more like the professor he remembered. "Even just a year would suffice. If nothing else, we can beg for professors from other schools for a year."

"No," he said. "That wouldn't be Hogwarts. The kids might as well stay away." He stood. "I should get started."

"Good luck, Professor Longbottom, and thank you."

He didn't tell her that it was nothing. He simply nodded and left, his mind already sorting out names. There was one he wished to ask no matter what, but before he could go to her, he had to find someone else.

~  
**Potions**

**April 2000**

Neville knew of Lisa Turpin from his last year at Hogwarts. She had reluctantly followed Terry Boot to their meetings and had brewed potions for their injuries in a small lab that the Room gave her. He remembered her dislike for Hermione and her support for Snape. Even when everyone thought Snape was the enemy, Lisa refused to listen to anyone speak badly of him. Neville did not care much for Lisa and she had never tried to make friends, instead always making it clear that she was aligned with them because of Terry and Terry alone. Still, when Lisa had listed to him all the potions she knew how to brew as reason why she should control their potions lab, she had included Wolfsbane. So Neville looked for her.

Finding Lisa took effort. Unlike others, she had not thrown herself into the rebuilding. Instead she had disappeared. He found other Ravenclaws, though, and they led him to Mandy Brocklehurst, who took him the final step to Dartmoor and the Mirabilis Academy. Mirabilis, he learned, was both a Potions research foundation and a post-schooling academy. Those wishing to become a Master or a Mistress of the art, but could not find an apprenticeship, could go there and learn all they desired.

The academy clung to the high ground of Dartmoor, ghostly in the morning mist. Neville wandered in without impediment, since no one went to Mirabilis without reason. He found Lisa in the middle of breakfast, her toast untouched and plate shoved aside. Her far too long red hair was braided and bound up several times against her head. She was taking notes and did not notice him until the fourth time he said her name.

"Lisa Turpin?"

She looked up him, clearly disgruntled at having been disturbed. "Yes?" she asks. "Longbottom, isn't it?"

He sat down across from her. "I have a proposition for you," he said. She placed down her quill, which he took as a sign to keep talking. He outlined the problems and the position. He dangled his temptations-- Snape's former position, her own labs-- without discretion, because he has never liked the idea of manipulation, and waited. When she hesitated too long, he added, "Even if just for a year."

"My own labs?"

He got out the paper for her to sign. "Yes. I should add, we will likely need you to brew Wolfsbane every month. Can you do that?"

She snorted. "Of course." He handed her the paper and she signed. Neville left the premises, glad that it had gone as well as it had, and apparated closer to home. Now, he could get Lavender.

**Ancient Runes**

**April 21****st****, 2000**

Neville had not eaten at the Leaky Cauldron in the evening before. His gran had despised the establishment altogether and the Greenies often gathered there for lunch instead. A crowd of men in one corner were arguing loudly about the upcoming Quidditch game. The Magpies had just recruited or stolen Roger Davies, gaining a chance of winning. Hannah brought him the bottle of Ogden's he had ordered and Neville poured himself a drink. He was on his second glass when he heard his name.

"Neville Longbottom."

"Pansy Parkinson. What are you doing here?"

"Drowning my sorrows," she said, holding up a glass of a smoky amber liquid. She looked at the bottle in front of him. "From the looks of it you are doing much the same."

"Just go away, Parkinson." He was not in the mood for company, especially from an out-spoken Slytherin.

"I would, only there is no where else to sit. Apparently Ms. Abbot believes you can be trusted to behave and not hex me as some others would do." After the war, Pansy had become the media's favorite villain, less for her outburst at the final battle and more for her audacity in staying in wizarding London. Then, she even dared to live normally, rather than supply the papers with stories. This only drove the reporters to be more vile. She was blamed for everything from the lack of Slytherins at the final battle to invasion of Hogwarts the year before.

Neville rested his head in his hands. "Fine," he said. Pansy smoothed down her immaculate robes and sat.

"Now," Pansy said, sipping her drink. "I know why I am here. Being hated by the majority of the population does get rather wearing after a while. But what about yourself? What reason does a friend of the Golden Boy himself have to be drinking so heavily when it is barely the dinner hour?"

Neville thought about his rather disastrous meeting with Lavender. She had not taken too well to being offered a job to teach Divination. He'd known that her incident had changed her, but he'd not realized it had so-altered her opinions about Divination as well. He had not expected the changes to be so great.

"Do you know Lavender Brown?" he asked.

Pansy paused, her drink half-lifted to her lips. "We were friends before Hogwarts," Pansy said. She took a sip and replaced her drink on the table. "Our families still met for Christmas each year until World Cup fiasco. Why?"

Neville poured himself another glass. "What is Lavender good at? School-wise, I mean."

"How would I know? You were her Housemate, not me."

"Forget it." He rolled his glass around on its base and watched, frowning, as the liquid tipped and fell. He took a drink. He should have known better than to expect help from Pansy.

"Charms," Pansy said, suddenly. Neville looked up over the rim of his glass.

"What?"

"She always helped with the decorating by doing charms, I believe."

"Thank you," Neville said, surprised and pleased. He could work with Charms. That still left Divination open, however, as well as everything else on the list, besides Potions. What had possessed him to-- he stopped and looked up at Pansy. "What about you?" he asked. "What sorrows are you drowning?"

Pansy pouted at her glass. "Perhaps I have imbibed too much already, for I feel rather inclined to answer your question." She took another drink and put down the glass. "I am a fallen woman," she said. "My family's fortune is tied up in all those 'voluntary' donations for re-building, leaving me with only a fraction than to what I am accustomed. Even more than Malfoy, I am reviled because I dared to suggest that we try to save the majority by sacrificing a single student who had shown countless times previous that he could defend himself. I am outcast, a pariah, villain. Take your pick."

Neville stared at her, unable to believe the idea growing in his head_. I'll ask people who can't refuse. "_What was your best subject in school?" he asked.

If Pansy was surprised by the sudden change in topic, she did not show it. "Charms and Runes," she said.

Neville grinned, he could work with that. "How would you like a job?" he asked.

"A job," Pansy repeated flatly. "Longbottom, are you certain you are well?"

"Respect, Parkinson, and a little money, though not much."

"And what would this fantastic job be?"

"Professor of Ancient Runes at Hogwarts."

Pansy put down her glass and waved a hand for Hannah to come over. Hannah looked weary. "Is there a problem?" she asked.

"Two sobering potions," Pansy demanded.

"You don't think I'm serious," Neville said, still smiling.

Hannah glanced between them and sighed. "Two potions coming up." She stepped back and wove her through chairs and people to the front of the bar.

Neville frowned. "She didn't seem very happy."

Pansy waved her hand at the crowded tavern. "Would you be? Working here? Abbot is an artist; she is wasted here."

"How do you know that?" Neville asked.

Pansy looked down at her glass and hands. "I move in mysterious ways, Longbottom. Besides, Abbot is... forgiving."

Hannah returned with their draughts. Neville knocked his back and winced at the sudden rush of clarity. Immediately he wanted to curse himself for having offered a job to Pansy Parkinson of all people. He knew he had to hire from all four houses, but surely he could have found a better Slytherin than Pansy. Then again, her comments about Hannah intrigued him. Besides, he had a long list; maybe Pansy would know others in need of a place and respect.

Neville studied the woman across the table. She wasn't pretty, but she had a confidence and nonchalance that both made up for it and drove the papers crazy. He'd seen her arguing with Greenies at lunch before. The volunteers would often be red-faced and reaching for their wands, while Pansy would calmly take the next bite of her food. But she wasn't unaffected, he saw that now. She just kept control.

She was watching him now, waiting for him to retract his offer most like. Instead, he said, "So, will you teach?"

Pansy gave him a long, measuring stare. "Is Hogwarts really that desperate?" she asked.

"Yes." She could take his honesty as either a sharing of trust or an insult. From the quirk in her lips, he assumed she took it as both.

"Then, I accept."

Neville got out the paper for her to sign. Pansy looked over the many blanks and then back up at him. "What do you know of Adrian Pucey?"

"Nothing. Why?"

Pansy traced her finger over one of the positions. "He is not a Seer, but his understanding of Divination is very strong. He would also make a perfect Head of House."

"Would he agree?"

"If I ask him. Also, I notice that someone has finally gotten rid of old Binns?"

"Yeah. You know anyone who likes history?" Neville asked. He was shocked by how helpful she was being.

"Daphne Greengrass. History and her violin were the only things she ever cared for. She has been appalled lately at being expected to do anything more." Pansy handed the list back to him.

"Why are you helping me?" Neville asked.

She laughed. "You? Whoever said a word about helping you? If I am to work at this school, I require for it to be of highest quality, far surpassing the years we spent within its walls. Besides, Longbottom, I am a Slytherin, and Slytherins watch out for their own. I am helping my friends. Kindly do not forget."

"Understood." He pushed his bottle toward her. Alcohol had lost its appeal for the evening. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I should go."

Pansy accepted the almost-empty bottle with an amused smile. "I shall treasure it," she said.

Neville shook his head, uncertain how to reconcile her seeming humor and blasé comments about being hated with the hurt he'd noticed when she'd talked about Hannah's forgiveness or her sharpness when she'd reminded him that they were far from friends. "Talk to Pucey," he said.

Pansy nodded and Neville stood. As he paid Hannah, he noticed again the shadows under her eyes and the strain to her smile. "Parkinson said you're an artist."

Hannah's smile flickered with honesty for a moment. "She caught me sketching one night. She isn't the same person we knew in school."

"None of us are," Neville said. He took his change and left the tavern. He had managed to anger one potential teacher and ended up gaining another and possibly two more besides. Perhaps his task was not so impossible after all. Now he simply had to figure out a way to get Lavender to accept.

**Divination**

**April 26****th****, 2000**

Pansy Apparated to the basement of Adrian's building and rode the elevator up to his floor. She had to admit that the building was slightly nicer than the one she occupied, but the taint of Muggle kept her from ever considering moving. She knocked on his door.

She heard him move around and say her name as though it were a curse. "Adrian, dearest, I will be coming in. Either you unlock the door or I will."

Adrian opened the door. He looked dreadful. His hair had clearly not been washed yet that day and lips were in a flat line. Indifference did not suit him at all. "Pansy, what a lovely surprise. Come in," he said, flatly.

She smiled at him. "Why thank you, how kind of you to invite me in." She stepped over the threshhold and Adrian locked the door behind her. Pansy immediately began to look around the room. He still had photographs of him and that ungrateful Muggle displayed. "This isn't healthy," she said, indicating one.

"What do you want, Pansy?" he asked, slumping back against a wall.

"Hm?" She noticed a newspaper out on the coffee table covered in red circles and exes.

"Why are you here?" She found his rather blatant attempts to hurry her out of his apartment cute. Ever since the 'End of the World' party, he had been wary of her help and schemes, as if his unfortunate one night affair had been her fault.

"Job-hunting?" she asked, purposefully avoiding the question.

"A consequence of turning my back on my family was the sudden lack of money. I have bills. Now, answer my question."

Pansy dropped the newspaper. "Oh, Adrian, I am here to lift you from this squalor."

He raised one brow. "Squalor?" She followed his gaze around the apartment. She did suppose that the place was clean and well-maintained, but that did not mean it was the best environment for her clearly still-heartbroken friend.

"Yes," she said. "From this horrid nest of memories and mundanity you have tangled yourself up in."

"I thought you liked my apartment and all this 'mundanity.'" He walked around to his rack of DVDs and tapped the top case lightly. "In fact, I clearly recall you declaring a love for Muggle movies at one point."

"Yes, but then that Muggle of yours ruined it and now I am afraid I quite hate it all over again." She was lying, which she knew he'd know. Her first trip to a Muggle cinema had been a revelation; she still went regularly, immersing herself into the stories that Muggles so excelled in telling.

"Right."

Pansy sighed, tired of playing. What would it take for Adrian to realize that the Muggle world only made him happy when he was in love with a Muggle? "Adrian, you don't belong here. Tell me, do you still think Hogwarts needs a better Divination program?"

He was staring at her now, likely trying to understand what she was getting at. "Yes," he said, finally. "Of course, I do."

"Then design it."

"Excuse me?" He straightened up and his dark brow furrowed.

Pansy crossed the room and took both of Adrian's hands into her own. "Adrian Pucey, as a representative of Hogwarts, I hereby offer you the position of Divination Professor for the coming fall. Do you accept?"

"You mean it." She smiled at the awe in his voice.

"Of course. Wouldn't it be nice to rejoin the Wizarding world for more than just memorials and solstice parties, Adrian?"

"Yes."

"Do you accept?" He would say yes. He had to say yes.

"Yes." Pansy's smile broadened and she kissed his cheek. She dropped his hands.

"Good," she said. "You have rescued me from being surrounded by Gryffindors. Now, come with me. We must inform Longbottom."

"Longbottom?"

"Neville. He was in my year and is in charge of this whole enterprise. He's the one who hired me." Pansy followed Adrian into his bedroom. He started to dig through the back of his closet.

"For?" He pulled out a slim, wooden box. His wand. He had said that he had locked his wand away, but Pansy had never believed him. She had thought him too intelligent for such an idiotically Gryffindor grand gesture.

"Ancient Runes," she said, biting back her disbelief. "I've already started to search for a decent text. I remember the one we used in school was dreadfully dull."

"Most people would say that Runes is 'dreadfully dull,'" Adrian teased. He was smiling, the expression was truly the best for his features.

Pansy sniffed. "Well, most people are fools. Can you Apparate?"

"Yes, Pansy." He rolled his eyes. "Just because I put aside my wand for a while does not mean I have lost my magic or forgotten how to use it."

"Good. Go to the Leaky Cauldron. Abbot said that Longbottom has been taking most of his lunches there lately."

"Abbot?"

Pansy smiled, thinking of far-too patient Hufflepuff, her perpetually mussed honey hair and quiet sense of humor when her work had not been too horrid. "Hannah Abbot. Lovely girl. Brilliant with charcoal. See you there." She Apparated.

Pansy reappeared with barely a pop in the foyer of the Cauldron. The tavern was full with Greenies taking their lunches, making jokes and plans. Hannah was carting around a water pitcher that replenished itself from a water tank in the kitchens. The pitcher had to be heavy, but, of course, the Hufflepuff was not complaining.

Pansy heard a pop behind her. "Glad you could join me."

"Is he here?"

Pansy checked a clock. "He should be. I bet he is hiding toward the back. Follow me." Pansy wove her way through the jumble of tables, all of which were out-of-place since the Greenies couldn't bear to break up their work crews even to eat, and found Neville eating a sandwich. Pansy noted with surprise that a green sash hung from the back of Neville's chair.

"Longbottom," she said.

Neville looked up. "Parkinson," he said. He did not sound surprised at all.

"I suppose Abbot told you I would be dropping by?"

"She mentioned the possibility. This is?" Neville nodded toward Adrian.

"Adrian Pucey, your new Divination professor and Slytherin Head of House."

"Excuse me?" Adrian asked.

Pansy flashed him a smile over her shoulder. "Did I neglect to mention that?"

"You did." Pansy shrugged, unrepentent. He would have only refused.

Neville waved his hand at the empty chairs. "Sit," he said. "Why is he the Head of House?"

"I'm not," Adrian said.

"You are," Pansy corrected. "Longbottom, for Head of House you require someone who can relate to the students no matter their background, be disgustingly patient, and embody the best of the House characteristics, correct?"

Neville nodded.

"Then you want Adrian. He has lived in both the upper class Pureblood world and in Muggle London with his wand _locked up_." Pansy gave Adrian a sidelong look which she hoped would convey the fullness of her disapproval for that particular stunt. "He was a tutor during his Hogwarts years and is a perfect Slytherin. Besides, who else are you going to ask?"

"Is that true?" Neville asked Adrian.

"More or less."

"Then she is right, especially the bit about not having other options." Neville handed his paper over to Adrian. "Sign please."

Adrian looked over the paper and signed his name. Pansy tapped the second blank. Adrian rolled his eyes and signed in the Head of House blank as well. "This is a lot of blanks," he said.

"I know." Neville took back the paper and slipped it into a pocket.

Pansy leaned over and whispered to Neville. "Ask him if he wants you to stock up on teacups for his first class."

"Why?"

"Just do it." She wanted to see if Adrian still possessed his passion.

Neville sighed. "Would you like the school to stock teacups for you?" he asked.

"Teacups?" Adrian sneered. "Why would I require teacups?"

"Er, to read tea leaves in?" Neville suggested. Pansy held back an anticipatory grin.

Adrian shook his head. "This is the problem with the world," he said. "Everyone thinks Divination is just about telling the bleeding future."

"It isn't?"

"Of course not, or else, why would we have Seers? Divination is about answering questions and understanding the unknown. I wouldn't give students teacups until their 6th year at the earliest. First, they have to learn how to understand the world around them. Then, they can learn how to use tarot cards and other forms of divination to make decisions and answer questions about themselves. If you don't give them that basis, how are they supposed to tell the difference between the future and wishful thinking or pessimism? And, if a genuine Seer does come along, without this kind of foundation, how are they to decide what to do with their vision? Not all prophecies should be shared freely and students must learn that."

Pansy nudged Neville's arm. "Told you he'd be perfect."

Neville ate the last bite of his sandwich and took back the paper. "Good job," he said to Pansy. "Now, I will leave you two to enjoy your lunch. I have to get back to Mungo's."

"Healer?" Adrian asked.

Neville shook his head. "No, I work in their greenhouse and help stock supplies. Not the most glamorous of work, but we all must do our part." He stood and slipped his sash over his shoulder. "Good-bye."

After Neville left, Pansy asked Adrian what he thought.

"I thought he was more nervous," Adrian said.

Pansy shrugged. "I suppose he grew up, that does tend to happen on occasion. During our last year, he replaced Potter as the Leader of Goodness and Light."

"Was he good at it?" Adrian asked.

Pansy pursed her lips and thought. "He did not rule by force like Potter. Instead, people trusted him, even if they didn't trust everyone he worked with. People who had scorned Potter, joined Longbottom. He was willing to compromise on the little things. He united people, was capable, remembered the details, and didn't blame people for their families or past."

"Formidable."

"Unexpected," Pansy said, and she waved Hannah over to give her a break from the water pitcher to take their orders.

**The Second Anniversary of the Battle at Hogwarts**

**May 2****nd****, 2000**

Minerva examined the partially-filled list Neville had given her. Though he was still far from filling every position, he had accomplished more than she'd expected. The people listed were all young, which did concern her, but youth was hardly a dire enough fault to require comment. Especially since the war had ensured that few people were truly young anymore. Lisa Turpin she remembered vaguely. The girl had never cared much for wand work, preferring Potions. She had heard Severus mention her name once or twice, but no one else. Adrian Pucey was promising. She remembered him sending around a petition to replace Sibyl. Pansy Parkinson, however, could prove problematic.

"Are you sure?" Minerva asked, looking up at Neville.

"Hogwarts should set an example, I think." Minerva raised a brow and looked back at the list. She was uncomfortable with the idea that Hogwarts should be a leader for a their world. A school should be a school, not a paragon or blue-print. She found it interesting though that Neville saw no alternative.

"Do you think she will be capable?"

"Parkinson?" Neville asked. "I didn't at first, but now I do. She already has her book list narrowed down, which is further than I've gotten." Neville shifted uncomfortably, as through realizing he ought not to have admitted to not having his class plans begun.

"Why Lisa Turpin?" she asked. She agreed with the decision. Anyone who could extract even faint praise from Severus was certainly worthy, but she wanted to hear his reasoning.

"I want Lavender Brown for Charms."

Minerva blinked. That was certainly not the sort of explanation she had expected. "Laven—oh." Her gaze dropped back down to the list and Lisa's tight signature. "Miss Turpin can brew Wolfsbane?"

"Yes." Neville's hand had clenched into fists at his sides. Minerva wondered if he noticed.

"I see. People will protest." Again she pushed, curious for his reasoning.

"Greyback and his wolves attacked many people," Neville said. "The werewolf population has nearly doubled. Some of those new werewolves may be our students. They will need a role model, someone to show them they are not alone."

"Good argument." Minerva handed the list back to him. "Very well, I approve of your appointments so far. Please inform the new professors that they may begin moving in on the 15th of this month. Now, I believe we had both better hurry out to welcome those coming for the memorial service."

"All right." Minerva lead Neville out to the monuments behind the school. Her eyes warmed and her throat tightened. No matter how often she saw them, she was never unaffected. She took in a deep breath and forced her attention upon the people who had already arrived, who were still alive.

Hermione Granger was talking with Harry, her face tight with concern. Nearby, Luna Lovegood spoke with Susan Bones, one of the speakers for the afternoon. Minerva knew few seasoned adults as strong as Miss Bones. She had lost all her family, but had remained determined and helpful. When she had seen that the Ministry was more focused upon trials than rebuilding, she had created the Green Sash Volunteers. The green was the same shade that Healers wore; Minerva wondered if Miss Bones saw her volunteers as the healers of their world.

Minerva pointed Neville toward friends and joined the women and gentlemen who were still preparing for the afternoon service.

"All you have to do is let them take pictures with you," Hermione said to Harry. Neville knew Hermione was not trying to be rude, but he really wished she would talk about something else.

"I'm sick of pictures," Harry muttered. Then he brightened and twisted in his seat to face Neville. "Hey, Neville, did you hear about the game?"

"You mean Davies?" Neville asked. He hadn't listened to the game, but he had been at Mungo's afterward, restocking one of their potions supply cabinets when everyone had suddenly gone mad. "I heard they're going to have to replace his eye."

Harry winced. "It was really that bad?"

"Harry!" Hermione said. Harry made a face and twisted back to Hermione and back to the same discussion they'd been having ever since he'd sat down with them. Apparently someone had suggested pictures in front of the monuments, which Hermione supported and Harry thought of as disrespectful to the dead. Eventually, Neville knew, Hermione would give. Since the end of the war, fewer and fewer people had been willing to disagree with or upset Harry Potter.

Tuning the two out once more, Neville watched as others arrived. Ron came alone. He stood back along the last row of chairs and looked around. He found Harry and started toward them, but then seemed to think better of it, since he walked the other way to his sister instead. Neville guessed that the rumors were true; Ron and Hermione really had broken off their relationship.

Flitwick arrived shortly afterward with a group of Greenies whose names Neville didn't know, though he had seen them gathered together at the Cauldron for lunch on occasion. Many of the people brought flowers or cards, making Neville feel guilty that he had not thought to do the same.

As the start of the service grew closer, the number of people grew until Neville could no longer keep track of everyone who was arriving. He was surprised to notice Dean Thomas sitting near the Patil sisters and Lavender. Neville had not seen Dean after the war, not even at the first anniversary of the battle. He'd have to ask him about that later. Lavender sat stiffly in her chair, not talking. She clearly wished to be elsewhere, but Neville was glad she was there.

Neville noted the late entrance of Pansy and Adrian just as a lone violin began to play. He turned back to face the front. A mournful cello followed with a quiet flute and oboe. Each musician wore a different House crest. The cellist was from Hufflpuff and the oboist from Ravenclaw. Natalie MacDonald from Gryffindor played the flute. Remembering what Pansy had said about Daphne Greengrass, Neville wondered if the violinist in the cloche hat was she. Everyone found their seats; the service began.

After the service, Harry quickly made himself scare while Hermione mingled. Neville relaxed in his chair, still thinking of the speeches he'd just heard while looking around for prospective professors. When he noticed Pansy join McGonagall and Hermione, though, he quickly rose to his feet and made his way over to their group.

"I thought Ministry interference with Hogwarts ended with Umbridge," Pansy drawled. "Or were you hoping to follow in her footsteps."

Neville groaned inwardly. This was not going to be pretty. Umbridge was one of the chief figures in the triumvirate of people Hermione hated. The other two were Voldemort and Priscilla Westworth, a girl she had gone to primary school with. "All I hope for is that Hogwarts will be well-staffed and safe for students. I am merely offering the Ministry's aid."

Pansy laughed dryly. "No, Granger, you, or whoever send you on this little mission of 'good will,' are merely offering to take over."

McGonagall said nothing. Hermione trembled with anger. "What business is this of yours, anyway?" she asked.

Pansy smiled. Before she could answer, Neville stepped between them. "Hermione, I should introduce you. This is Pansy Parkinson, Hogwarts' new Professor of Ancient Runes."

_"Her?"_ Hermione's voice grew shrill and sharp. The sound reminded of Neville the first time she had discovered Fred and George sneaking back into their dorms to sell goods from their business.

Pansy crossed her arms and lifted her chin. "Do you think me so incapable?"

Neville turned to Hermione and caught her gaze. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

"Of course," Hermione answered. Her lack of hesitation made Neville feel warm inside. Despite the war, despite everything, she was still the girl from the train who'd seen losing a toad as a perfectly natural thing to do and who'd helped him find Trevor without teasing him or making an issue of it.

"Then trust that she is best for this job."

Hermione wavered. "She wanted to give Harry to Voldemort," she said, her tone pleading for him to understand. Neville did, but he stood firm.

"I know." He kept his eyes locked with Hermione's. "She was scared. She was a Slytherin who was unafraid of speaking her mind and terrified. Not an excuse, but a reason. She did not fight in the final battle for either side; it is time for us to set an example and forgive."

"She hates Muggles." Hermione was reaching.

"She won't hate her students." Nevile wasn't sure if this was true or not, but he hoped Pansy would hear and understand the expectation.

Hermione's gaze flickered past Neville to Pansy. "Do you trust her?" she asked.

"Yes," Neville replied. He heard Pansy suck in a sharp breath. He trusted her to look out for her own interests, at least. He hoped he could one day trust her completely.

"All right." Hermione turned to McGonagall. "I hope you will think about what I said. I care about Hogwarts, too."

"Of course, Miss Granger. Thank you."

Hermione nodded and left the group. Neville turned back to Pansy and McGonagall. "_What_ was _that?_" he demanded, waving his hand toward the direction Hermione had gone.

McGonagall sighed. "Certain people within the Ministry would like for nothing more than to gain influence over Hogwarts. It seems they have swayed Miss Granger to their cause." Neville's mouth dropped open.

"What?" he asked.

Pansy shrugged. "Hogwarts is a symbol of hope and change. Whoever controls the symbol can control the people who believe in it. Granger was over here offering Aurors to patrol the school and teach Defense."

Neville frowned; the image reminded him too much of before the war. "Aurors in Hogwarts?"

"Several people have expressed concern that the current protections around Hogwarts were insufficient during the war and are even more so now, without Albus' power to feed them. Aurors would put many families at ease."

"Why?" Neville asked. "Voldemort is dead."

"Do you really believe that the Ministry has found every person sympathetic to the Dark Lord?" Pansy scoffed. "Besides, several people are concerned that growing anti-Muggle sentiments in the States will make their way to our humble shores."

"What are you talking about?"

Pansy's eyes widened and her dark brows rose. "Do you truly not know? Longbottom, there is more in London and beyond than is writ of in the Daily Prophet."

"Perhaps you should just explain, Professor Parkinson."

Pansy sighed. "Millicent Bulstrode currently resides in the States. She attended St. Lucia's last year and decided to stay. She has written me about a law that the Department of Wizarding Affairs is currently considering. This law will allow for Wizarding authorities to remove magical infants from Muggle households, applying memory charms as necessary."

"That-- They--" He couldn't find words.

"Precisely," Pansy said.

Neville shook his head and looked back at the crowd of people. A queue had formed informally of people waiting to place their flowers and gifts before the monuments. Many were crying and hugging one another, sharing bad memories. He found Hermione again, now talking to Ginny. He tried to imagine what she would have been like if she had been stolen from her parents. He couldn't believe the American government was honestly considering such a law. They couldn't.

He turned back to Pansy and McGonagall. They were talking now about defenses. McGonagall was considering goblins, but Pansy had another idea. "Wait here," Pansy said, and she excused herself.

"Are you all right, Professor Longbottom?" McGonagall asked.

Neville nodded. "Just a little shocked. You'd think they'd have learned from our mistakes."

"Oh, but I believe they did. Voldemort was raised in the Muggle world." Neville felt a little sick at that thought; this was not the sort of lesson people should take from their war.

He was about to respond, when Draco Malfoy approached their group. His appearance stunned Neville; he had not realized that Malfoy was back into England. After the war and all the trials, Malfoy had left. Last Neville had heard, he had started his own defense company and was regaining much of his former wealth.

"Professor McGonagall," Malfoy greeted them. "Longbottom."

"Is there something we can do for you, Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall asked.

"I was informed that Hogwarts is a little challenged defenses-wise and so have come to offer my services." He handed McGonagall a card. "Contact me. If you recall, I spent an entire year researching Hogwarts' defenses. I know the weaknesses and, now, I know how to strengthen and replace them. I promise my fees are very reasonable."

"I shall keep that in mind, Mr. Malfoy. Thank you." Malfoy touched the brim of his hat, and then turned and walked away.

"If you wanted to anger the Ministry," Neville said, recovering from his surprise, "there's a good way." He nodded toward Malfoy's retreating back.

McGonagall looked down at the card. "Yet," she said, "he does make an interesting offer." She slipped the card away. "Oh, there is Poppy. Excuse me, Neville, but I must speak with her about this year."

Neville stepped aside. Alone once more, he watched the crowd. He saw Harry again, this time with Ron, but staring white-faced at where Adrian Pucey was talking with Susan Bones. Since no one looked like they were about to explode, Neville decided to ask Adrian and Susan about it later. Harry, he knew, would evade or take offense. He then saw Dean talking to Luna within the shade of a large tree and walked over to join them.

"Good afternoon," Luna greeted him. She wore earrings Neville had not seen since the last anniversary at Hogwarts and, before that, since school. They were dirigible plums, often mistaken as radishes, and seemed very out-of-place for the somber event. Neville knew how much they meant, though, and of everything they reminded Luna. "Lovely service, wasn't it?"

"Yes," said Neville. "Hello, Dean." Up close, Neville could see that Dean still towered above him, despite Neville's own growth.

Dean grinned. "Neville, I heard you're going to be the new Herbology professor?"

"How did you hear that?" Neville asked; he had not wished to spread that knowledge around yet.

Luna raised her hand. "I told him. Dean lives in the Muggle world now."

"Really?" Neville asked. No wonder he hadn't seen him around for a while.

"Yeah, war and everything was just a bit too much for me. I'm in school now learning to teach art."

"Is it hard?" Neville asked. He'd been putting off thinking about the work he would have once the fall arrived.

Dean shrugged. "It has its moments. Oh, hey, I'm going to go say 'hi' to Seamus. If I don't see you again before I leave, it was good to see you both."

"You too."

Once Dean had walked away, Luna said, "He knows a lot about Muggles and he can teach."

Neville gave Luna a sharp look, but she did not seem to notice. She had a point, however. Neville fingered the paper in his pocket and wondered if Dean would be willing to return to the Wizarding world for Hogwarts.

After sending Draco over to McGonagall and visiting the monuments, Pansy decided to rest away from the crowd for a while. Out of respect for the dead, few people said anything directly to her. This did not stop them, however, from shooting her terribly dirty looks when she had gone to pay her respects at Dumbledore's tomb and the monument for the slain. Longbottom's surprising endorsement still rang in her ears. She did not know what she had done to deserve his trust, but then he _was _a Gryffindor. Still, she was pleased. She liked being liked. Pansy walked around to the front of Hogwarts where she thought she would be alone.

Someone had already beaten her to the front steps for solitude. The woman had brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and scarves wrapped around her throat. She looked a little familiar, though Pansy couldn't be sure. She walked over and down further until she could see the woman's face. The features took a moment to register; it was Lavender Brown.

Pansy took moment to recover before approaching the steps. She remembered Lavender as silly and bright. This woman, however, held herself tightly and was frowning. She had heard the rumours, of course, but had not been convinced until right then.

"Lavender Brown," Pansy said.

Lavender looked at her. "Pansy Parkinson," she said. "Surprised to see you here."

"Likewise."

Lavender shrugged. "I was kidnapped."

Pansy sat down on the steps beside her. "I heard Longbottom offered you a job."

"I turned him down."

"I heard that, too. What about the second offer?"

"Second offer?" Lavender asked. Her tone was so utterly disinterested, however, that Pansy suspected she asked only out of politeness.

"Charms."

Lavender laughed. The noise could have cut a diamond. "I can't teach," she said.

"He hired Lisa Turpin for Potions."

"So?"

Pansy glanced over the girl she had grown up with, them and the Patils, all annoying one another for years, until Hogwarts. She still wondered how they had gotten from that point to this one, here on the steps. Life always changed faster than she expected. "Turpin can brew Wolfsbane," she said, softly.

Lavender's eyes fluttered closed. "Tell him I will think about it," she said.

Pansy smiled. "I will."

**Magical History**

**May 5****th****, 2000**

"In America, today is a day of celebration and drunkenness," Pansy said. Millicent had written her a letter the year previous describing the festivities in the small town where she had completed her wizarding education after the war and, then, decided to stay.

"Then go to America," Daphne replied. She was walking ahead of Pansy, carrying only her violin. Pansy followed with the costumes. Normally she found such drudgery beneath her, however, she was willing to endure it this once if doing so meant she could hire Daphne.

Pansy sighed theatrically. "But then I would have to leave all my adoring fans behind." A man walking past in the other direction sneered and muttered something about Azkaban.

Daphne shrugged and turned down a small side alley.

"Where are we going anyway?"

"A playhouse, I presume. They heard me play at the service and their regular musician is ill." Daphne stopped suddenly in front of a small red door. "Here." She walked in and promptly disappeared into a back room or somewhere. Pansy was relieved of her load and guided to a seat. The playhouse filled slowly over the next half hour. At precisely eight, Pansy heard the low whine of a violin. The lights dimmed and the curtain opened. Three young people in school robes, one in a bushy brown wig, stood in the center of the stage. When they began to speak, Pansy had to slouch down in her seat and cover her mouth to keep from laughing. What followed was a musical rendition of the year before the last battle, complete with unicorns and dancing. The Ron ballet piece was too much. She bent over in her seat and laughed into her lap, muffling herself with her robes. When characters died, they leapt into the air, threw rose petals, and Apparated away. After the final battle, the curtains closed upon Harry kissing Ginny and Ron kissing Hermione.

Then they re-opened and Pansy wished she had some way to record what she saw, because nothing in the play to that point could best what happened next. A placard on the side of the stage read '19 Years Later.' The characters were kissing once more, but were all now wearing adult robes and the backdrop showed the Hogwarts Express, which apparently would be operational in the future. Pansy wondered if anyone had informed the playwright that both of the couples shown had broken up already, or if the person in question did know, but still hopefully wished for the four to find their way back together. The backlash against Ginny Weasley when she and Harry had broken up for the final time after the war was one of the few times in the past couple years during which Pansy had been ignored, even tolerated by the general community. She had sent the Weasley flowers in thanks.

The scenes that followed were too sickeningly sweet to be believed. When Harry took his son, Albus Severus, which was a name Pansy _had _to find a use for sometime in the future, aside and sang 'I'll Always Believe in You,' Pansy did not think the play could get any better. Then Ron and Draco joined together for 'Another Year, Another Rivalry' while their children made eyes at each other and she was proven wrong. It was simply too perfect to believe. Pansy checked her program to see when the next showing would be. _Everyone _had to see this.

After the play, Pansy waited for Daphne to emerge. "That was wonderful," she said.

Daphne frowned. "That was a travesty."

"Exactly. So, are you ready to hear my offer now, or do you want to continue doing work like this?" Pansy held open the door for Daphne.

"What is your offer?" Daphne asked.

"Teach History at Hogwarts."

Daphne was silent for a full block, then she said, "All right." Pansy was curious to know why Daphne had accepted so readily, but new better than to ask. Daphne never said more than was strictly required and would ignore any inquiries she did not see as vital.

"Good. You can move into your rooms at Hogwarts on May 15th or anytime after."

"Thank you. Good night, Pansy." Daphne turned and walked into a small building. Pansy did not know if she had another job or if she lived there. After all, Daphne had never said explicitly that she lived in the flat where Pansy had found her earlier that evening. Leaving the other girl to her mysteries, Pansy walked the rest of the way to the Leaky Cauldron for a late meal and to spread the word about the wonderfully horrible musical she had just seen.

**Muggle Studies**

**May 21****st****, 2000**

Neville checked the map again to make certain he was at the right building. He had already made a mistake once. The addresses and locations matched, so he went in and up to the second floor. Dean's apartment was 203. Neville could hear music playing loudly inside. He knocked.

The music's volume dropped and Dean answered the door. He wore only a white t-shirt and paint-splattered jeans. "Hey, Neville," Dean said, smiling. "What brings you to my neighborhood?" Neville heard the unasked question-- you've never visited before, so why now?

"A job offer," Neville said.

Dean waved him in and shut the door behind him. "Find some school that has with funds for an art program and doesn't mind a brand new teacher or teacher-in-training?"

"No," Neville said, growing nervous.

"Thought not. Want a drink? I have Pepsi and apple juice." Dean jerked a thumb toward his kitchen.

"No thanks." Neville looked around the apartment. Dean had several sketches pinned to his walls and an easel set up in a corner. The current work though seemed to be a mural. Tarps covered the ground and the colors on the wall matched the ones that speckled Dean's jeans, hands, and feet.

"So, if not art teacher, what are you offering?"

"Muggle Studies."

"At Hogwarts?" Dean asked. He looked interested; Neville relaxed.

"Where else?" Neville asked, smiling.

Dean ran a hand over his head. "Wow. You mean it?"

"Yeah. We need teachers for the fall."

"Who else is teaching there?" Dean asked.

"Lisa Turpin, maybe Lavender Brown, Adrian Pucey, Daphne Greengrass, and Pansy Parkinson."

Dean leaned back against the bar between his main room and kitchen. "A lot of Slytherins."

"Even more reason why I need you," Neville said.

Dean laughed. "Yeah, okay, sure. Let me finish up my year here first. I only have another week and a half left, really. And then, what, I guess I prep over the summer? Is there a curriculum I should follow or anything?"

Neville shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of. It's all you."

Dean whistled low. "That's a really big responsibility," Dean said. "Whatever we do is going to set a precedent."

"Yeah," Neville agreed, though he hadn't actually thought about that yet. He handed Dean his list of positions and names and Dean signed.

"Thanks for thinking of me," he said, handing the paper back to Neville. Blue paint was now smeared across the top corner. Neville wiped it with his finger as he folded the paper back up and slipped it back into his pocket.

"No problem." Neville

**Tom Jamison**

**May 27****th****, 2000**

Neville carefully packed the seedlings into their crate. On his latest visit to Hogwarts he had noticed that the greenhouse was lacking mandrakes and some other healing herbs. Luckily, Mungo's was willing to donate. Luna noted down each and made labels for their pots. "You're forgetting Filch," Luna said.

"Hm?" Neville asked.

"You're forgetting Filch," Luna repeated. "He left after the war."

Neville looked up at up. "How do you know what I'm doing?" he asked. He'd been meaning to ask ever since her cryptic comments at Hogwarts earlier that month.

Luna smiled dreamily at him. "I look and listen."

"Right."

"You talked to Dean?" Luna slipped a new layer into the crate and labeled it. As she moved the bells she had sewn to her sash shivered. Neville placed a pot in the corner closest to him.

"I did," he said.

"Good. You still need a Caretaker, though."

"Any suggestions?" Neville asked. He frowned at the leaves on one plant. They were yellowing. He pulled his wand from his holster and summoned a water mister. He could use his wand to spray water, but the mister was far more precise and its water could be enriched with vitamins and charms to better help the plants.

"--a job. I have a cousin. He needs a job. I have--"

"What?" Neville asked. He used his wand to mark the pot so that he'd remember to check it once he returned to Hogwarts.

Luna laughed, loudly and freely. "I have a cousin. He needs a job," she said once more.

"What is his name?"

She bit her lip and looked away. Odd. "Thomas Jamison."

"Tell him to contact me," Neville said. He re-spaced a row and added another pot. Luna updated her tally.

"I will," she said.

**Charms**

**June 11****th****, 2000**

Neville waited on the mossy stone steps outside of Lavender's small house. He'd been waiting nearly an hour. If she took much longer, Neville had decided to occupy himself with pruning the overgrown tangled garden by her steps. Lavender was cutting herself off again, not just from him, but everyone. He didn't know how else to reach her, other than to invade her home when she didn't expect it. Finally, Lavender arrived, a bag of groceries in each arm. When she saw him, she stopped.

"Neville."

"Lavender, I'd like to talk to you again about Hogwarts."

Lavender sighed. "I know." She walked down her sidewalk and handed one bag of groceries to Neville. "Come in," she said.

Neville set his bag down on the kitchen counter and watched Lavender sort the items, separating cold from room temperature, boxes from cans, and put everything away. When she was finished, she looked up at Neville across her kitchen counter.

"Did I ever show you my scar?" she asked.

"No."

"Oh, it is a beauty," she said, and she began to unwind the many scarves from her neck. With each missing sheer layer, Neville was able to glimpse more of what lurked beneath. Finally Lavender removed the last, a light white, and Neville saw her scar in all of its terrible glory. Her skin puckered around the edges and stretched out thin and tight across the center. The color was an inhuman yellow-green-violet.

"It won't go away," Lavender said, breaking Neville from his gross fascination and making him realize he had been staring. "The first ones never do."

"What was it like?" Neville asked, immediately hating himself for the question.

"It hurt," Lavender replied. She wound her several white, blue, and purple scarves back around her neck. Neville watched the scar slip back away into obscurity. How, he wondered, had she changed so much? He remembered her as a bubbly, happy girl, one who had, without embarrassment, called her boyfriend by a ridiculous nickname, who had believed in Divination and the ultimate goodness of the future.

"Come teach," Neville blurted out. He wanted her back at Hogwarts, back with people.

Lavender looked away. "The Ministry provides free Wolfsbane for the first three months. After that, the potion is very expensive. The first time I went without, I became a monster." Her eyes closed. "I was so angry. I needed to destroy and kill. It was overwhelming. I got drunk on it and then I woke up with blood in my teeth. It was only a rabbit, but--" She sighed and opened her eyes. "Don't you see what I am?"

"Yes," Neville said. "I see a beautiful woman who would be a first-class Charms teacher if she would just accept my offer."

Lavender smiled weakly. "No, I am a werewolf. I'll never be just a woman again."

"You can't isolate yourself," Neville said. "You need people to remind you that being a werewolf doesn't make you not human."

"Actually, it does, but I will accept your offer."

"Really?" Neville grinned.

"Yes." She nodded, looking away. "Pansy told me you will get me Wolfsbane every month. Free."

Neville was surprised she had talked with Pansy, but he did not remark on it. "Of course," he said. He pulled out his often-creased paper and handed it to Lavender to sign. "Thank you."

Lavender signed her name and handed the paper back to him. "Don't be," she said. "I am doing this mostly for the potion."

"Even so." Neville slipped the paper back into a pocket. "You can move into Hogwarts whenever you like," he said.

"All right. Good-bye, Neville."

"Bye."

**The Caretaker**

**June 23****rd****, 2000**

Teddy ran giggling into Luna's arms. She swept him up, though not as easily as she'd been able to a year, even six months ago when he'd been smaller, and let him hang backwards, his hands reaching for the floor. "Perhaps you should hide for a while," she said.

"Why?" Harry asked. He grabbed Teddy's hands and Luna slipped her grip to his ankles. They swung Teddy back and forth. Her mummy and daddy had done this for her once, ages ago. The memory made her both happy and sad, a contradiction she was well-used to. So many things in life seemed to require opposite emotions. Like Harry. He was nothing but contradictions and tangles nowadays.

"You are tired," Luna said. "You have worked very hard since the Battle."

"I have not."

"For you, standing still for photographs is harder work than catching a Deatheater." Luna let Teddy down. The little boy began to spin in circles, his hair shifting from blue to green to brown and back to blue.

"They need me," Harry said.

"Peacocks do not need bright feathers. They just use them to attract mates." Luna picked up Teddy before he could fall and whispered at him to close his eyes, knowing he would enjoy the sensation of still spinning.

"Hermione wouldn't do that."

"Not even if she thought it was the right thing to do?" Luna asked. Harry did not respond. Luna frowned and put Teddy down. She urged him to go to Harry. Lately, only Teddy had been able to draw out the Harry Potter Luna remembered from school. Harry sat down, pulled Teddy into his lap, and tickled him. "Just a rest, Harry."

Finally, Harry met her eyes. "Where would I go?"

Luna breathed deep with relief. "I told Neville my cousin would be happy to serve as Caretaker at Hogwarts."

"You don't have cousins."

"I know. His name is Jamison. Thomas Jamison."

"Thomas?" Harry asked, then his eyes narrowed in realization. "_Tom._ Luna--"

"I was thinking of Dean," Luna lied.

"Really?" He did not believe her, but that did not matter. Harry had been refusing to remember anything from the war, always stuffing all the memories away like a Recondocat hoarding newspapers for reasons beyond human understanding.

"Maybe. What is wrong with 'Thomas'? It is a perfectly good name." Teddy wriggled around in Harry's lap and stole his glasses. Luna quickly summoned them from his grasp. She knelt down in front of Harry and slipped the glasses over his eyes. "You do not see what I see," she said. She let her hands linger, her thumb brushing over his cheek bone, before pulling back and standing up.

"Come on, Teddy," she said. "I think it is snack time." Teddy ran to her as soon as she said 'snack' and grabbed her hand. She was nearly out the door, when Harry called her name.

"Luna."

"Yes, Harry?"

"Tell Neville I'll do it. I'll be Jamison."

She smiled at him, even though he was not looking at her. "I will."

Neville rubbed his forehead; he could feel a headache beginning to blossom. He had finally told Susan that he was withdrawing from the Greenies. While Susan had understood and wished him well, many of his co-volunteers at Mungo's had not. Most, he'd been surprised to learn, had been expecting him to continue his volunteer work while teaching, especially since the number of injuries was on the rise for some reason. Luna was an exception and still talking to him, which was nice except for the fact that she was giving him whole new headaches to stress over. "So your cousin is really Harry, but no one can find out?"

Luna smiled. "Precisely."

"_Why_?"

"Because peacocks do not need their feathers." She said it as if that explained everything. Perhaps, to her it did. Neville, however, just saw another reason for the Ministry to oppose Hogwarts, something he had not even been aware of until Pansy had pointed it out. He sighed.

"All right."

Luna tilted her head and then added, "You may wish to tell Adrian Pucey though."

"Do I even want to know why?" He could sense that this was going to be yet another headache.

"I assume Pucey will know." Luna sipped the last of her tea and checked the time. "We should go back to work."

**Minerva's Deputy**

**July 1****st****, 2000**

The Headmistress called Neville to her office early morning on the first of the month. She had finally moved to the Headmaster's office, though the space did not look like it was hers yet. Remnants of Dumbledore and Snape lingered throughout the room. "Professor Longbottom," McGonagall said, greeting him. "Come in. Sit. I noticed on the list copy you sent me last week that Adrian Pucey will be serving at the Slytherin Head of House."

"Yes." Neville took a seat across from McGonagall's desk. He noticed it was the same as the one in her  
old office.

"Good. Professor Vector has agreed reluctantly to watch over the Ravenclaw House. Neither she nor Sinistra care to become too involved in Hogwarts anymore." One of the portraits snorted. McGonagall glared over Neville's shoulder and he heard nothing else.

"I will mark that on my list."

"You will be serving as the Gryffindor Head, of course." She glanced over the rim of her glasses at him and carded a stack of papers with two swift taps against her desk.

"I will?" Neville asked.

McGonagall looked up over her glasses at Neville. "Yes." Her tone allowed no argument. Neville gave in. He did not mind being the Gryffindor Head of House. In fact, he was honoured that McGonagall wanted him and not Dean or Lavender.

"All right."

"Good. All that remains is the matter of Hufflepuff. With the other Houses taken care of, I can get you more time for that. Now, onto the issue of my deputy. Due to the help you have provided in ensuring that Hogwarts opens this fall and that you have sought out and hired most of the staff, I want you to be my deputy." She tapped a finger lightly against her short stack of papers.

Neville nearly said yes, but then he remembered yet another long discussion with Pansy at the Cauldron. "No," he said.

"No?" She withdrew her hand from the papers.

"I would be honoured," Neville said, trying to recover, "but I have to say no. We are both Gryffindors and I will already be acting as a Head of House. It would be unfair for students in other Houses."

"I was able to serve as both Head of House for Gryffindor and Deputy Headmistress under a Gryffindor Headmaster and remain fair." McGonagall's tone froze the air between them.

Neville winced inwardly. "Yes, you did, Headmistress. _Before _the last battle. Things are different now."

"I see. Do you have any suggestions in your place then? The Ministry is requiring the name of my deputy by this afternoon. Vector and Sinistra have already made their disinterest clear."

"Pansy," Neville said, before thinking too much.

"Pansy Parkinson?" Even as McGonagall expressed her complete disbelief, Neville realized he was right.

"Yes," he said, still thinking the idea through. "She is the one who chose Adrian and Daphne. Also, she spoke with Lavender for me. Besides that, she understands how politics work. I don't."

"I see. Thank you, Professor Longbottom. I trust you can see your way out." Neville stood. As he left, he noticed McGonagall stare at the stack of papers on her desk, her lips pursed in careful thought. He decided against saying anything to Pansy. McGonagall would never trust her enough to appoint her.

"Longbottom, do you care to explain to me why Marcus Flint thought to call me over the floo earlier this evening and congratulate me upon being appointed the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts?"

Neville gaped up at her over his dinner. "I didn't think she'd actually do it?"

Pansy sat down across from him and crossed her hands primly on the table. "Explain." Neville took a gulp of tea and then did so. He told her about going to see McGonagall, turning down the position himself, and offering her name. The tips of Pansy's nails whitened as she pressed them against the table, controlling her first reactions. "Longbottom," she said, "I know you have always had difficulty with such simple matters as memory, but surely even you can recall the not-exactly-favorable reaction my appointment provoked in that bushy-haired Ministry nuisance. Elevating me beyond professor will only worsen such opinions."

"But, I thou--"

"I am not finished." Neville shut his mouth with an audible click. "I did not accept this position out of any love for Hogwarts. I was under the impression that you understood that. Enjoy your meal." Pansy scraped her chair back, smiling grimly when Neville winced at the noise, and went to the bar. She glanced around until she found Hannah. She was cleaning tables in an empty section.

Pansy walked back to the empty section and commandeered a chair. "I do not suppose you possess strychnine, belladonna, or some other nasty poison?"

Hannah looked up from the table she was scrubbing. Strands of blond hair that had escaped her bun hung down around her eyes. "We used the last of the belladonna yesterday on a rude man with grabby hands. You'll have to ask the apothecary."

"Alas, they are closed. What about common sense in a bottle?"

The corners of Hannah's lips tilted up in a small smile. "What did Neville say?" she asked.

"I have been appointed the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts."

Hannah's eyes widened and her hands stilled. "That's wonderful. Congratulations."

Pansy wrinkled her nose. "No, it isn't. I have absolutely no desire at all to be deputy."

"Why not?" Hannah asked. She resumed scrubbing the sticky pools of ale, juice, and tea from the table.

"Oh, sit down," Pansy said. She pulled out another chair. "Your boss, my dear Abbot, is far too preoccupied with the ladies by the bar to notice if you rest for a moment."

Hannah rolled her eyes. "I'm fine. Why don't you want to be the deputy?"

"I prefer the only person with influence over my rise and fall in society be myself. As the deputy, however, the performance of every professor will impact the judging of my own work."

"Selfish."

"Slytherin," Pansy countered. "Self-preservation is a House necessity"

Hannah moved to the next table. "Can you refuse?"

"After McGonagall has already told the Ministry? No. My only option now is to be brilliant. When is your break for dinner?"

"After I finish these tables."

Pansy counted three more to clean. "Why do you not use magic?"

She thought she heard Hannah laugh, but she wasn't sure. "Try," Hannah said.

Pansy flicked an easy cleaning charm at the mess on one of the remaining tables. Nothing happened. She frowned and tried again. Again nothing.

"The tables absorb magic," Hannah explained. "A good idea if you're using one as a shield, but..."

"A horror if you have to clean them." Pansy looked at the remaining tables. If she were a better friend, she would help, but she could not stand the thought of having to hold a soapy towel or scrubbing against sticky pools of unknown grime. She stood and pushed her chair back where it belonged. "I will be at the bar," she said.

Hannah nodded and finished her table.

**Defense**

**July 3****rd****, 2000**

Pansy met with McGonagall two days after learning of her new position at Hogwarts. Portraits hung on all the walls, staring down silently. Pansy knew that they were a tradition, but personally she found them quite morbid. Was it entirely necessary to display them where all could see? Why could they not simply create a portrait room, which would have the additional benefit of allowing students to also consult the wisdom of the past.

"Professor Parkinson." Pansy broke from her thoughts quickly and berated herself for being caught off-guard.

"Headmistress McGonagall," Pansy replied, careful to give nothing away. McGonagall examined her as though presented with a mess of curses she had to untangle and reverse.

"You have heard from the Ministry." She did not phrase it as a question.

"I have."

McGonagall nodded. "Very well. Professor Longbottom seems to believe that you will make an excellent deputy. Do you agree with him?"

The question was terrible, so Pansy opted for honesty. "No, but I have little choice now."

"Indeed." McGonagall rested one hand on a short stack of papers on her desk, her finger tapped lightly against them. "Do you recall Miss Granger's words at the memorial ceremony?"

"Does the Ministry, out of the goodness of their hearts, still wish to post Aurors around the school, despite the fact that they are currently facing an Auror shortage?"

"They do. However, out of respect to me," McGonagall smiled thinly, "they have agreed that I may seek alternatives. We have until the end of the month. What do you suggest?"

"Me?" Pansy asked, without meaning to. She made a mental note to kill Longbottom at the earliest convenience; this was not supposed to be her headache.

"Yes, Professor Parkinson, you. As Deputy, this is as much your concern as mine."

"Of course. Did Draco not tell you of his post-war activities?"

"In brief. Enlighten me."

Pansy collected her thoughts. "Draco has created a contracting company for estate defense. Several upscale boutiques in Paris and a new primary school in Portugal have hired him, as has several private entities. He has a unique collection of people, each with skills regarding either the defense of a location or the penetration of the same. He and his people seek out every possible way to compromise a place and then create ensure that no one else can ever use that method. Rinse. Repeat."

"Hogwarts does not have a lot of money."

Pansy smiled. "Dear Draco wishes to return home for good. He visits in and out, but his reputation within England is still such that he can only find work on the continent. If we give him Hogwarts and allow the Ministry to check his work afterward and put into writing if they think it adequate, he could recover for many of his past mistakes. He will be even better portrayed if he takes the task for free."

"I have spoken with Mr. Malfoy. He named a rather high price."

Pansy blinked, surprised that McGonagall had already contacted Draco. She then realized that the entire conversation so far had been a test and her estimation of the new Headmistress rose slightly. She shrugged. "Let me explain the situation to him," she said. "I can make him agree."

"I am certain you will." McGonagall lifted the stack she had been resting her hand on and gave them to Pansy. They were a list of names, complete with addresses and information concerning families and prior education. "These are students currently enrolled for the coming school year. The ones in blue are Muggleborn. Most have returned their letters already, but a few are still missing. Those are indicated by the question marks. Also, we will need to take all the students to buy their supplies. This has traditionally been a task regulated to the Deputy Head. Lastly, without the Express this year, the students will not be arriving all together. We can set up Portkeys, but we will need to organize the professors to ensure that every area is covered and all students accounted for. I also leave that up to you." She handed Pansy a map with stars for all the students.

Pansy browsed the lists of names and looked over the map. "We don't have much time to get this all done," she said.

"No, we don't. Do not disappoint me, Professor Parkinson. Now, if you don't mind, I have my own work to attend to. I have secured Madames Pomfrey and Hooch for the coming year, but I still must finish furnishing the common rooms, placating the Ministry, and staving off the Prophet, not to mention order books and plan my own curriculum for the fall."

Pansy stood. "Of course. Have a good afternoon, Headmistress."

"You, as well."

Pansy left the office, trying to mentally sort the whirlwind of tasks she had just been given. Then she began to smile. The finest aspect of leadership, she recalled, was the ability to delegate well. This may just be more satisfying than poison.

**Defense Against the Dark Arts**

**July 16****th****, 2000**

"Ah, Longbottom, dear, sweet, Longbottom." Neville looked up from his dinner as Pansy dropped a sheaf of papers in front of him. "Since you entangled me in this ever-lovely mess, you will be assisting me with sorting it."

"You're the one who complained about Hogwarts being unfairly biased when all the power came from one House."

"I also complain about the horrid little articles the paper occasionally finds fit to publish about me, but that does not mean I expect you to make them stop. Interestingly, the news about my recent appointment has done nothing to lessen them. In fact, I think I may even more despised than usual." She sat down. Neville took one last bite of his steak and then pushed his plate aside. If Hannah or Adrian were around, Neville could count on them to distract Pansy long enough for him to finish his meal or drink. In their absence, however, when Pansy decided to do business, she did business.

"What are these?" Nevilled asked, indicating the papers.

"Lists." Pansy smiled. "Without the Express in full operating order, we must devise methods to collect all students for the fall. Also, the Muggleborn will require time in the Alley to purchase their wand, books, robes, and other goods. Adrian and Thomas will tend to them. Your task is to contact the returning students and organize them into three or four groups. I will also need your list of required books and items for your classes."

"Is that all?" Neville asked. He still had to finish his class plans for the last four year levels; he didn't have time for more work.

"Hardly. Who is the Head of House for Hufflepuff? You have yet to see fit to recruit a single former Puff."

"I've tried," Neville said. "Most of them are with the Greenies and unwilling to budge. I don't know who else to ask."

Pansy sighed and shook her head dramatically. "Typical Gryffindor. Always heroically trying to go it alone. _Ask _someone, Longbottom, preferably a Hufflepuff. Perhaps they will know a gullible soul open to our temptations." She reached over and picked up most of the stack of papers. "Now, I must bid you farewell. I need to inform Thomas of his new responsibilities." She Apparated from her chair with a very quiet pop. Neville had a theory that stealth Apparation had been taught to all Slytherins at Hogwarts; every snake he met was skilled and quiet.

Neville cast a warming charm on his steak and finished his meal. As he was leaving the Cauldron, Hannah rushed in. Neville remembered Pansy's advice and followed Hannah back toward the kitchens.

"Hannah," he said.

"Evening, Neville. Something I can help you with?" She slipped an apron over her head and wrapped the long strings around her front.

"I hope so," Neville said. "I need to find a Hufflepuff who is good at defense and desperate for a job."

She paused, her wand still on the clock-in box. Then she tapped the box and slipped her wand away. "Zacharias," she said. "Zacharias Smith. He wanted to be an Auror, but everyone just remembered how he ran from the final battle. He helped me with my homework a few times; he just panicked."

Zacharias Smith. Neville knew him. Good in practice, bad in reality-- not a horrible combination for a teacher. "Thanks, Hannah," Neville said. He smiled at her and she returned it in kind. She slipped her wand into a special holster at her hip. "I'll let you get to work then," he said, and he stepped aside to let her out of the room.

"Good luck," she said. Neville returned to the front counter, paid for his meal, and left the tavern. Luck, he thought. He was going to need that.

Neville's hands clenched slightly. This was the fifth time he had wanted to hex Zacharias during their conversation. Neville's memories of Zacharias, beyond his skill with a wand, had been limited to a few memories of a sharp and artless tongue, tinged heavily with sarcasm. Neville had _hoped _that such behavior had been a phase and that Zacharias would be a decent chap now. He had hoped in vain.

"Okay," Zacharias said, "I'll do it, but on one condition."

"What?" Neville asked.

"I get to be the Hufflepuff Head of House." He looked expectantly at Neville, as if daring him to deny his request.

"Done," Neville said. He'd have to apologize to all the Hufflepuff students some other time.

Zacharias grinned. "When can I move in?"

"Now," said Neville. He handed him the list to sign. Zacharias wrote his name with a flourish. "Send your book list to McGonagall or Parkinson before the end of the month," he said and he made excuses to leave.

Neville looked down at his list. He had only one position left to fill: Care of Magical Creatures. He had no idea who to ask.

**Care of Magical Creatures**

**August 10****th****, 2000**

"You _will _take the potion. I don't care how much you--" Hannah jumped back as the man reached out and knocked the vial from her hand, spilling the sobering potion.

"You all right, Hannah?" Neville asked. Her eyes were ringed with dark circles; Neville felt exhausted just looking at her.

"Fantastic," Hannah said. She sighed and flicked her wand at the scattered shards of glass. "_Reparo._" She picked up the vial and slipped it into a frayed pocket.

"What's wrong?"

Hannah nodded toward the man who now looked to be fast asleep at the bar. "He's been here all day. In fact, he's been here all week. I heard from Hogsmeade that he was banned from Moon's new place and before that it was The Three Broomsticks. I don't know what to do with him."

"Who is he?" Neville tried to catch a glance at the man's face, but his features were blocked by his arm and mug.

"Roger Davies. I do feel bad for him," she said. "After all, his whole life was Quidditch."

"Was?" Neville asked.

Hannah nodded. "Regulations state that the magical eye and knee they gave him at the hospital are an unfair advantage to other players. He's been retired. Normally, I just help him home, but Tom's gone tonight and I can't leave."

"I'll take him home," Neville said. His drink could wait. Hannah smiled gratefully.

"Thank you. He lives on the second floor of the Heath Place, the apartment building just outside of Hogsmeade. They have floo. Roger just needs help getting out at the right fireplace and then getting up the stairs to his flat."

"Would you like me to take him now?"

"Please. It's busy tonight and I can't babysit."

Neville nodded and approached Roger Davies. He clapped the older man on the back, rousing him from his shallow sleep. "Come on, Roger," he said, "it's time to get you home." Roger protested, but the alcohol in his system made him awkward and lethargic enough that Neville was able to manhandle him over to the fire. Just before Neville tossed the powder into the fire, Hannah stopped him. She had another vial of sobering potion.

"Try, at least," she said. Neville promised he would, and dropped the vial into his pocket.

"Donwanna go'ome," Roger slurred, slouching toward the floor. Neville grabbed his waist to keep him upright and threw the floo powder into the fire.

"Heath Place," he said. He pulled Roger into the flames. When they arrived in the lobby of the apartment building, Neville took one look at the stairs and reached for the vial Hannah had given him. The floo travel had made Roger just woozy enough that he did not notice what Neville was doing. Neville dribbled the potion into Roger's mouth and then covered his nose and mouth until he felt him swallow. He lowered Roger onto the stairs and stood back, waiting for the potion to start working.

As Neville watched Roger slowly return to sobriety, he wondered if Roger had any skill with magical creatures.

Pansy blinked. "He accepted your job offer."

"Not like he has a lot of other options," Neville said. "After the Quidditch accident--"

Pansy laughed. "Longbottom, I'd thought you left your bumbling behind in Snape's Potions class, but you have now outdid yourself. You offered Roger Davies a position at Hogwarts."

"Why not? He's capable."

"He is a drunk. He lingers in taverns and causes problems for the people working there. Hannah has had to pay for his drinks twice now, though I've yet to understand why she bothers." Pansy's voice was low and angry. "Do you honestly believe that after losing a life of fame for doing what he loves, that Davies will instantly recover simply because you have offered him a job that he would have never considered before this past spring?"

"I can't retract the offer."

Pansy stared at him. "Fine." She did not say anything more and Neville decided to not risk a full tirade. He'd heard stories of what happened when a Slytherin's control snapped.

When Hannah arrived with their food, Pansy smiled at her as if nothing in the world was wrong. "Hannah," she said, "sit down. We have wonderful news."

Neville opened his mouth to ask what Pansy was doing, but the glare she shot his direction silenced him.

Hannah sighed. "Pansy, I can't, I have--"

"_Sit._" Hannah stepped back. For a moment Neville thought she was going to flee, but then she checked to see if she was being watched and reached for a chair.

"Two minutes," she said.

Pansy smiled. "Good. Now, Hannah, dearest, I have told you countless times that your current occupation is hazardous for your health, sanity, and talent, have I not?"

"Yes."

"However, you've yet to take my advice to find other work. I had been pondering this pretty little problem, until Longbottom here made me realize that I had been remiss in providing you with a counter-offer."

Hannah's brow wrinkled. "What offer?" she asked, her voice careful and cautious. Neville wanted to know as well.

Pansy leaned over her plate. "Hogwarts is in dire need of one last professor and I believe you would be perfect for the task. We have decided to divide the responsibilities of the Care of Magical Creatures professor in half. One professor would tend to most of the creatures; the other would tend to the students and classroom. Longbottom has hired the former, but we still require the latter." Neville gaped at Pansy; he had not expected this. Pansy ignored him.

"I don't know how to teach," Hannah said. She started to stand, but Pansy grabbed her arm.

"None of us do," Pansy replied. "Take the job. You cannot convince me that you have more love for this place than for Hogwarts, or that your work and presence are more dear here than it would be in a classroom with students who need to learn." Hannah sat back down and Pansy released her hold.

Neville noticed then a slow transformation taking place over Hannah's features. The exhaustion and unhappiness he had seen before, darkening her eyes and pinching her lips, began to lift. She was smiling, not the polite one she wore for her work, but one that pushed up against her eyes and made Neville feel so guilty for not having considered Hannah sooner.

"Do you mean it?" Hannah asked.

Pansy looked now to Neville. She arched a brow. _Your turn_, it seemed to say.

"Yes," Neville said. He pulled out the list of names he'd carried with him everywhere since April. "Sign here, please," he said.

Hannah pulled a pen from her apron and wrote her name. She stood up. "Excuse me," she said, "but I have a job to quit."

Pansy grinned and sat back in her seat. "About time, Abbot."

Hannah rolled her eyes. "Thanks," she said, and she walked up to the bar, already untying her apron strings.

Pansy looked over to Neville, and asked, "Have you managed to solve the transportation issue yet?"

Neville nodded. "I have some ideas."

"Well?" Pansy asked. "Amaze me."

Neville outlined his plan. Mid-way through dinner, Hannah joined them. Her hair, which had always been up, was now loose around her shoulders; and, while she still looked tired, she no longer seemed defeated. Pansy was right in hiring her, Neville knew; he just hoped McGonagall wouldn't mind the extra salary. They spent the rest of the evening talking about the coming school year, the latest drama from the Scarlet Players, and anything else that came to mind.

**The List**

**August 11****th****, 2000**

Neville took the list to McGonagall the next day. She looked over all the names and then slipped the paper into her files. "Good work, Professor Longbottom," she said.

"You're welcome, Headmistress," Neville replied.

Neville left the office and wandered down to the rooms he had claimed for his own months ago. The front room would serve as an office and his bedroom connected to the back workroom in one of the greenhouses. His books were ordered and his syllabus was done for the first couple months.

The defenses were in place and Harry had moved in earlier in the month to finish last-minutes tidying. All of the professors were hired and planning. Neville laid back on his bed and let out a long, satisfied yawn.

Hogwarts was opening.

Headmistress-- MM (G)  
G Head of House-- Neville Longbottom  
R Head of House-- S. Vector  
S Head of House-- Adrian Pucey  
H Head of House-- Zacharias Smith  
Transfiguration-- MM (G)  
Astronomy-- A. Sinistra (R)  
Arithmancy-- S. Vector (R)  
Ancient Runes-- Pansy Parkinson  
Potions-- Lisa Turpin  
DADA-- Zacharias Smith  
Magical History-- Daphne Greengrass  
Muggle Studies-- Dean Thomas  
Herbology-- Neville Longbottom  
CoMC-- _Roger Davies_ & Hannah Abbot  
Divination-- Adrian Pucey  
Charms-- Lavender Brown  
Filch-- Tom Jamison  
Deputy Headmistress-- Parkinson


	2. Hogwarts: Day One

**Title**: Hogwarts: Day One  
**Author**: LilyAyl  
**Rating**: G  
**Beta**: attempt-unique  
**Characters**: Pansy primarily. Some Draco, Hannah, Neville, and others.  
**Notes**: This story is part of the 'Two Years Later' universe that I share with whatifisaidno. I recommend that you read 'Rebuild What's Gone Unsteady' first.  
**Length**: ~6600  
**Summary**: On September 1st, 2000 students arrive at Hogwarts for the first time in two years. Pansy is overseeing the arrivals when something goes wrong.

**September 1st, 2000  
Friday**

The start of a thing is paramount, hence the necessity of a kiss at the start of the New Year and fresh parchment at the start of school. The beginning foretells the action and eventual ending. Thus, it is vital for a thing to be begun well.

Pansy knew this as deeply as she knew that subtlety triumphed over boldness and every rune had its meaning. So, in the continued absence of the Hogwarts Express-- an absence caused either by the lack of a decent Mechamancer or friction between the Muggle and Wizarding governments, depending upon whom one asked-- she had designed the welcoming of students to be pleasant and awe-inspiring.

Outside of Hogwarts wards, just beyond the far edge of the Quidditch Pitch, Pansy had convinced Draco, through a toxic mixture of flattery and cold rationality, to create a safe area for portkey arrivals. Then, just within the wards, two professors, who would change frequently throughout the day, beginning with Lisa Turpin and Zacharias Smith, watched over a small picnic area where students could gape at the castle, snack, and converse.

The pick-up locations had been selected with the utmost care and the schedule of arrivals decided, re-worked, and finalized several times over until no overlaps or oversights remained. Draco and a skeleton crew stood by, watching the wards and waiting for trouble. If she opposed Hogwarts, Pansy would attack on the first day to disrupt the start and hopefully throw the rest into disarray. Knowing this, Pansy had approached a state of paranoia in preparations and counter-plans.

Nothing could possibly go wrong, which was precisely why something did.

The air in the arrival area contracted and shimmered as though suddenly heated. Then, with a sudden expansion that was both nothing like an explosion, but resembled nothing else, a ring of students, each sitting on his or her trunk and grasping a knot in the loop of rope that was the portkey, appeared. Roger Davies, soaked, Pansy noticed with delight, from the waist down, accompanied them.

Before she could greet the students, Davies coiled the rope up with a quick flick of his wand and shoved it against her. "Your Apparation coordinates were off," he said, his breath hot and foul against her face.

Pansy widened her eyes with false innocence. "Were they?" she asked. "I am dreadfully sorry. I was not aware. Perhaps you should go change your robes. They're wet, you know."

Davies glared at her, his false eye trying to pierce through her. Pansy waited. Five breaths, then he pushed away from her and stalked up to the castle. Pansy dropped the rather heavy rope by the others and turned back to the students. They watched, some warily, some with interest. Pansy noted a couple Slytherin crests and she wondered what sort of power struggles and opportunities they were imagining. She smiled brightly at them all.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, beginning her spiel. She directed the students to the area within the wards and told them to leave their luggage. Those who did not stand up quickly enough, fell to the ground as House Elves appeared and disappeared with the trunks. Pansy suppressed a smile. She knew her amusement was cruel, but the day was hot and getting warmer, even with Cooling Charms, and she, unlike others, would not receive reprieve until lunch. She was, after all, the Deputy Headmistress. Beyond that, however, she simply did not trust anyone else to oversee the first day of Hogwarts after two years.

Once the students had passed through the wards and were out of earshot, Draco walked up beside her. "That wasn't very nice," he said.

"Are you referring to Davies?" Pansy asked.

"Yes."

"I haven't the slightest idea what you mean then. I gave him those coordinates in good faith. Though, of course, had the numbers been altered slightly to ensure that he found himself within a lake rather than on a bank, I could only assume that the one doing the tampering had good cause."

"Such as?" Draco did not look at her, but watched instead the temporary protections around the arrival area. The protections repelled Muggles, which was not an easy task outside of those areas that had long warded them off, wildlife, an even more difficult endeavor, and those who do harm, the most difficult of all as it relied upon the intent, rather than type or class of being. The effect was permeable and subtle, which Pansy appreciated. She did not wish to draw extra attention.

"Such as the fact that Mr. Davies is a complete and utter prick."

Now Draco laughed. He motioned to her sheaf of notes. "Who's next?"

Pansy did not even have to look. "Abbot." She had, out of pure selfishness, scheduled Hannah's retrievals to take place at mostly even intervals throughout the day. This ensured that Pansy was able to see her every couple hours. She had also taken care to place Hannah after any moments that Pansy anticipated as distasteful, in other words, after both of Davies' trips. Hannah was also her last group of the day.

Thirty minutes after Davies' arrival, the air began to tighten and shimmer once more. When it expanded, Pansy needed only to see Hannah's bit lip and worried eyes to know something had gone wrong. Then she saw the gap in the rope. Between a fair-haired boy in Hufflepuff colors and a skinny girl still in Muggle dress, hung an empty knot. Someone was missing.

Before she could even think about that potential crisis, Pansy needed to greet the students who were present. She shook her head tightly at Hannah, whose pale blue robes, she noted absently, had a rather pleasing affect when contrasted with her yellow hair, and glanced toward the knot so that Hannah would, hopefully, understand that she understood. Hannah's shoulders relaxed, allowing Pansy to focus upon the eleven students who had arrived.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she greeted them. Once they were out of the way, the rope coiled and ready for another use, Pansy approached Hannah asking, "What happened? Who is missing?"

Hannah shook her head. "I don't know and Gretel Slurryhill, a first year and Muggleborn. I thought maybe her parents forgot, but when I went to the house it was empty. No one was there. I nearly missed the portkey."

Pansy looked through her papers and used the moment to calm down and think. Serenity amidst calamity did not come easily to her, but after the battle at Hogwarts she had been working harder to obtain it. It was one of the many unofficial rules of Slytherin; if one absolutely could not avoid a mistake, one could at least exploit the error by learning from it. She found Gretel's name and a plan began to form. "Slurryhill," she said. "Adrian accompanied her to Diagon Alley for her school things." Pansy let the papers fall back to their original page and she looked up. Hannah had her arms crossed and was slipping her lower lip in and out from between her teeth. "Abbot, you are not to assume all the blame for yourself. You are a Hufflepuff, not some idiot Gryffindor." She reached out and gently squeezed Hannah's elbow. "We will find her." She weighted every word.

Hannah sighed and lowered her arms. "All right," she said. "What do we do?"

"Locate Adrian and inform him that he is to track down our lost little lamb. The family and Gretel may be more responsive to a familiar face. Afterward, tell--" Pansy checked the waiting area. Turpin and Smith had already left. "--Brown and Thomas that one of them shall have to cover for Adrian at 11. Lastly, remain on the Pitch and watch over the students until the lunch hour."

"Thanks," Hannah said, and she took off for the castle, her blond hair streaming behind.

Pansy made a small notation by Gretel's name and motioned for Draco. "I fear," she said, "we have encountered a bit of a difficulty. Could you arrange for your team to check over the wards? I suspect that this single missing student is merely the beginning of whatever sabotage some wretched fool has planned for us."

Draco kept his face blank, but his eyes hardened like two little stones. "I will check myself," he said, before Apparating away. Not only did he make no sound, but the disappearance was subtle, as though he transformed into sun and shadow. Pansy made a mental note to learn the trick. Just because they were out of school did not mean she could allow Draco to best her at Apparation.

Alone, Pansy waited. Children chattered to each other behind her, arguing loudly about which House was best and whether the rule that students enter a year behind their age was fair. Apparently, no one had seen fit to inform the students that they would have the chance to advance to their true year providing they passed the initial assessments of their professors. She heard none discussing the missing girl; and so she did not intervene. Thomas and Brown could tend to the rest.

She did not pace, despite her anxiety. She had anticipated problems, even if missing students had fallen out of her scope. Instead, she tried to decide who would most benefit from the events, provided they continued uncorrected and became publicized. The Board of Governors would be furious, even more furious than normal.

Pansy recalled her first and, so far, only meeting with the men and women who had contributed enough Galleons to Hogwarts in the past or during the rebuilding that they felt entitled to oversee the management of the school. Pansy understood the sentiment and necessity, but, as a member of the faculty, she despised their interference. Perhaps it was the absence of Dumbledore that made them so bold, but they had tried to assert a right to the shape of the curriculum. Different books, lists of goals for year levels, additional tests-- Pansy realized that she had as little teaching experience as they, but at least she had an understanding of her own subject. Sweet Circe they had tried to tell her that it was good and proper to cover all of Ogham within the first month and then to switch to hieroglyphics. To Brown they had suggested a completely different and far more basic text series than the one she had selected and, in fact, already purchased.

Pansy did notice the trend in their complaints. Longbottom, Thomas, Turpin, and Abbot had all been heartily approved while she, the other Slytherins, and Brown had been slain. The blatant nature of their disapproval was what finally prompted her to action. She had stormed their meeting without permission and slipped notes to a few of the board members. The notes mentioned such minor activities as the re-sell of a ring taken from a home during rebuilding, the name of a young man who provided carnal comfort after hours, and the sudden loss and reappearance of funds between one account and another. Normally she disliked engaging in blackmail so publicly, but she had desired for even those she did not threaten to understand the lengths to which she would go for her school and reputation.

With the worst critics silenced, though still not supportive, Pansy had laid out her concerns. She'd feared that she would have to end up withdrawing one of her complaints, when help had come from an unexpected quarter: Draco's cast-out aunt. Andromeda Tonks cut an imposing and impressive figure, even with an ever-morphing toddler on her hip. She re-stated several of Pansy's arguments and talked to the Board as if they were her grandson. In the end she had won for Hogwarts a year without meddling and reconsideration at the school year's end. If they did well, the Board would retreat to the sort of role it had held during Dumbledore's years, more a court of appeals than a governing body. If they did not, Hogwarts would lose much of its autonomy.

They would not learn of this fiasco with Slurryhill. They simply could not.

Hannah returned, flushed and gasping, with Adrian, Jamison, and Thomas in her wake.

"Did Abbot explain our current predicament?" Pansy asked once they reached her.

"Yes," Adrian said. "I'll go and look for the girl."

"I'll help," Jamison said quickly. Adrian's jaw tightened ever so slightly at the interruption and his body shifted the tiniest bit away from Jamison. Pansy found this fascinating. Adrian was clearly discomforted by their Caretaker, but did not wish for anyone to know. Quite a pretty puzzle for when her mind was not otherwise occupied. She caught Adrian's eye and glanced at Jamison. He looked away from her and she suppressed a smile. Fascinating indeed.

"I assume then that Thomas will be retrieving the students from Kent by himself?"

"Yeah," Thomas said.

"Very well. Return with good news, gentlemen," she said. Adrian nodded and Apparated. Jamison was a moment later and loud like a novice. Pansy marked Slytherin off her mental list for Jamison's possible House, along with the Ravenclaw she had discarded earlier that summer. She knew him. She _knew _she knew him, yet she could not place him.

Pansy equipped Thomas with a rope and coordinates and, a second later, he was likewise gone. Hannah remained.

"Do you think they will find her?" she asked.

"Yes," Pansy said. "She must be found and so she will be found."

Hannah's mouth drew up at one corner. "I don't think the world works that way, Pansy."

"I know."

In the arrivals area, the air contracted and released. Hannah gasped and Pansy cursed. On the ground, alone and coiled, laid a rope. Daphne Greengrass and the twelve students she had gone to Cumberland to retrieve were completely and utterly absent.

Pansy wove her wand through the air and, in glowing green letters, wrote out the Apparation coordinates she had earlier given to Daphne. "Go," she said. "Find out what happened."

Hannah read the numbers, closed her eyes, and was gone. Pansy summoned a chair from the area where students rested and sat down. She would need to tell McGonagall soon if something did not quickly improve. Just then an unwelcome thought struck Pansy and she straightened in her chair. If the students remained missing, would they be required to inform the Aurors? She could not imagine the Ministry hiding children, but exploiting the situation was well within the realm of their capabilities. She checked the time. It was only 10:40 yet. The Sorting would not take place until 6:00 that evening. They still had plenty of time.

Ten minutes later, Hannah returned. "They're not there," she said. "But--"

"I hope this is a marvelous 'but,'" Pansy said.

"They were seen boarding the Knight Bus."

"The Knight Bus," Pansy repeated, flatly. "I am going to _kill_ Daphne." Pansy knew Daphne disliked Portkeys. She said they were like cymbals, which made no sense, but Daphne was a _Musician_ and so allowances occasionally had to be made. Even so, Pansy had hoped her friend would have had better sense than to go off on the bus when the portkeys had been pre-arranged and agreed upon. At the very least she could have sent a note.

"At least they aren't missing," Hannah said.

"There is that," Pansy granted. "Thank you, Abbot, m'dear. Now, if you don't mind, I do believe that Brown could use your considerable aid." A loud peal of laughter from the Pitch underscored her point.

Hannah smiled. "Call me if you need me," she said, and she walked past Pansy to the waiting area within the wards.

Pansy checked the time. Thomas would be arriving soon with the next batch of students. With luck he would arrive with all students accounted for and no problems to report. Pansy stood up, preparing herself for the incoming students. She knew better to trust in luck. At exactly 10:30, the ring of students appeared, two knots empty. Pansy abbreviated her greetings and waved the students to the waiting area behind her.

"Two?" Pansy asked afterward.

"Muggleborns," Thomas said.

"And first years as well, I presume?" Pansy asked, hoping she was incorrect.

"Yeah. Er, Elsbeth Wright and Gavin Temple. I took Elsie to Diagon; she asked about dragons, wouldn't shut up about them actually. Any news from the others yet?"

"No. Return to the same coordinates, please, and see if you can't find either student. Speak with neighbors, anyone who may have an idea as to what exactly is happening."

"Sure thing." Dean Apparated immediately.

Pansy returned to her chair. Three students now. She checked the names, seeking connections. The three were all from different areas of the country and each had gone to Diagon Alley with a different professor. Slurryhill with Adrian, Wright with Thomas, and Temple with Vector. A shadow darkened her pages.

"What did you find?" Pansy asked.

"A few areas were weakened, but everything was intact. I've got my people on alert now." Draco leaned against her chair. "And on your end?"

"Daphne decided that taking the Knight Bus without informing anyone was far more preferable than following the plan. Meanwhile, two more students have disappeared."

"Odd."

"Quite. I cannot uncover any similarities between the students beyond their age and blood quality. Trying to find anything more is positioning me upon the long road toward insanity, I think." Pansy closed her notes. "Distract me," she said.

"Which genre of distraction would you like?" Draco asked. He skirted a finger down the side of her neck. Pansy leaned away.

"Not that sort," she said.

"Of course. I forgot."

"Liar."

He grinned slowly and then bent down by her ear. "Three nights ago, I had a rather unexpected affair."

Pansy turned toward him. "Who?" she asked, examining his face for the minute ticks that always gave away his lies to her.

Draco's grin turned wolfish and he stood up. "A proper gentleman would never tell."

She glared at him, curiosity nibbling at her as she built a list of names. "Draco, for this to be a proper distraction you must, at least, provide me with a clue of some sort."

A second later, Draco began to hum. The melody took a moment for Pansy to place, but once she did, her mouth dropped open a little. She couldn't help it. "You are lying," she said.

"I'm not. Strangely, I don't even need to change the lyrics. He still can't block a thing."

"Draco," Pansy said, groaning at the poor and rather tasteless joke. "And do you--" she could not fully articulate the question, which was understandable as she could not yet envision what Draco was telling her.

He shrugged. "Quid pro quo, or, in Gryffindor terms, 'fair play.' To be honest, I was as startled as you to find him in my bed again."

"Again?" Pansy asked.

Draco gave her an odd look. "Didn't Adrian tell you about the Solstice party?" he asked.

"Apparently not. So how exactly did you and--" The screech and squelch of tires and breaks swallowed the rest of Pansy's question. The huge purple Knight Bus stopped in the middle of the portkey arrival area. She heard students making noise over it. The door opened and a reedy young man bellowed, "All leaving for Hogwarts."

Daphne was the first off the bus. Pansy stood and strode over to meet her. "Daphne, _dearest, _you and I must have a little chat later concerning plans and following them."

Daphne blinked at her. "Students were missing. I could not leave. I retrieved them and called for the bus."

This was the best news Pansy had heard in the last hour. "Good," she said. "Next time, however, please inform me of your intentions so that I know not to worry."

"All right."

"Who was missing?" Pansy asked. She already had her list of names ready and her quill hovering over the only two who were Muggleborn and eleven.

"Capulets," Daphne said.

Pansy marked the names beneath her quill. Felix and Ada Capulet, twins and escorted to Diagon by Lisa Turpin. "Where were they?" Pansy asked.

"Home."

Knowing that getting anymore information out of Daphne would be difficult and exceptionally painful, Pansy stepped back and allowed her odd friend to walk past and wind her way up to the castle and, more likely than not, her violin. Pansy returned to her notes and tried to puzzle out why the first year Muggleborn students were proving to be so suddenly reluctant after their intital enthusiasm. She had to know; what had changed?

By midday, Pansy was no closer to solving the mystery of her missing students. Longbottom's group, the last before lunch, had arrived with all students intact, but, considering that Longbottom's group was also all older students, Pansy did not think much of the success. Adrian and Jamison had returned right before lunch with tales of hostile neighbors and an empty house. Eventually they had discovered that Slurryhill's parents had taken her to relatives in Italy and Adrian was in the castle right at that moment charming old friends into allowing him to jump the queue on the international Floo.

For her part, Pansy was trying very hard to give the impression that nothing at all was amiss. The children enjoyed their picnic lunch, delighting over the cool pumpkin juice, sumptuous sandwiches with thick cuts of various meats and cheeses on rich slabs of dark bread, and chilled soups. Madame Hooch had brought out brooms and quaffles and the students were playing an odd variant of Quidditch with half of the players in the air and the other half running along the ground. A breeze flitted around playfully and made the day more bearable than the morning had threatened.

Pansy smiled, forced herself to smile, and tried to think. The consistency of the Muggleborn first years bothered her; it could not be coincidence, but she did not yet know the method by which the students had been contacted and secreted away. She was dissecting the morning once more when Neville interrupted her thinking.

"Parkinson," he said.

"What is it, Longbottom?" Pansy asked, irritated by the disruption.

Neville seemed utterly unaffected by her tone and Pansy realized, belatedly, that she had been spending far too much time in his company if he was immune to her distemper. "I have a student I think you should talk with. She was in my 9 a.m. group. First year. Her parents received a letter."

"A letter?" The possible schemes began to unfold in Pansy's head like spreading of butterfly wings. _This_ was what she had been missing.

"Yes, telling them that Hogwarts was dangerous and not trustworthy."

Pansy leaned forward, her smile sharpening with anticipation. "And does the young student in question possess a copy of this letter?"

"She does."

"Bring her to me."

"I already have." Neville stepped aside to reveal a small girl composed entirely of lines and triangles from the angry arch for her brows to her painfully sharp shoulders and pointed shoes. This is Carrie Thorpe. Carrie, this Professor Parkinson, she is the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. Please show her what you showed me."

The girl-- Miss Thorpe-- pulled a grubby envelope from the back pocket of her trousers. Pansy noticed with some distaste that her knees were scuffed with dirt. "M'mum said it was no bother t'them what the school wasn't or was. They didn't have no money t'send me overseas and they weren't going t'deal with m'magic acting up no more."

Pansy mentally translated the girl's swift spiel into proper English and accepted the envelope. "Thank you, Miss Thorpe," she said. She turned the envelope over in her hands, noting the stamp and address. She lifted the rather messily torn away flap and extracted the letter. She read it once, checked the envelope again, and read through it once more. The confusion, worrying, and frustration of her morning coalesced and cooled into a far more practical rage. She looked over the paper at the girl. "Do you mind if I keep this, Miss Thorpe?"

The girl shook her head. "Naw, that's why m'mum gave it to me anyway. I woulda got it to you sooner, but I forgot. There was so much t'see and eat. Food here is mighty delicious."

Pansy smiled wryly. Had she been less concerned about amazing the students, perhaps the young Miss Thorpe would not have been distracted from passing along the letter and the great mystery of the morning solved far sooner. "Thank you again, Miss Thorpe," she said. "Why don't you return to lunch now?"

The girl nodded, turned, and ran off. Pansy looked to Longbottom. "Did you read this?" she asked.

"I did."

"Get everyone," she said. "We must find a way to counter this spleen before we end up bereft of Muggleborns."

"All right." Neville took two steps back and then jogged over to where several of the professors were eating and talking. Pansy took advantage of the quiet moment to read over the letter again.

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Thorpe,_

_My name is Bethany Highcastle and I was the mother of a young wizard. I am writing this letter to ensure that you don't make the same mistake I did. I lost my son because of Hogwarts and the wizarding world. I hope you and your daughter can avoid the same fate._

From that maudlin beginning the letter laid out a clever mix of facts and lies intended to twist the parents' affection for their child or children. Accounts of the war were braided with reports from the States and supported by frozen articles from the Prophet that had been copied into the letter by some kind of magic Pansy had not encountered before. Though the letter was handwritten, the letters were too uniform or perfect to be natural. She suspected a Quick-Quotes Quill, a regular tool for anyone wishing anonymity.

From a purely objective point-of-view, Pansy admired the letter. It was a work of art; if she were a Muggle parent, she would certainly question sending her child off to Hogwarts after reading it. This also comforted her; the only kidnappers involved were concerned parents, not some third party as she had feared. However, parents would also be less centralized than a third party and more difficult to overcome. Pansy folded the note and waited as the professors gathered. Adrian was still inside, unfortunately, and Vector was finishing preparations in the library for the mystery librarian McGonagall had hired to replaced Madame Pince.

"Have you figured out what's going on yet, Parkinson?" Thomas asked.

Pansy lifted the note. "Listen," she said. As she read the letter out loud, the people around her tensed. Brown, upon hearing the section about the dangers of werewolves at Hogwarts, shut down. Her limbs stilled and her face dropped into the vague stoicism of a doll. Hannah's stance widened; Pansy recognized the motion from when Hannah had worked at the Cauldron and was standing up against unruly patrons. Pansy noted all of the reactions; none seemed forced or false, for which she was quite glad. While seemingly genuine reactions were not enough to completely discount the possibility that a professor had been involved, they did slip the chance further down the list.

"What do we do?" Hannah asked.

"We have to find the parents and explain," Longbottom said. Pansy agreed that the families needed to be found and thought it rather cute that Longbottom thought a simple explanation would solve everything.

"Do you think they'll listen?" Brown clearly agreed with the futility of talk, though Pansy suspected for she did so for rather different reasons than Pansy.

"Memory charms?" Davies offered.

"And mire the school in all the legal difficulties that would result?" Pansy asked, stepping into the conversation before it could spin away and far from topic. "No, we will locate the families, but we will offer more than mere words."

"What did you have in mind?" Smith asked.

"Weekly updates of their children, monthly Floo calls-- staggered, of course--, and bimonthly visitations."

"Will Pureblood parents have the same options?" Smith asked.

"Yes. Brown, you, Turpin, and Thomas will visit the parents. Be frank. If you find another family has gone on holiday, contact us immediately." Pansy hoped that meeting Brown would allay fears about her lycanthropy. Thomas would add the Muggleborn perspective and Turpin's boyfriend, she'd learned, had recently followed the Charms Master he was studying under to the States. She should be able to answer some questions on that score.

Pansy waved her wand and wrote out a list of names in the air. "Please note your name and times," she said. "This is our new retrieval schedule." Pansy passed out the coordinates and provided Brown with a list of locations for the missing and anticipated as missing students. As the lunch time ended, the professors dispersed and Pansy returned to her station by the arrival area.

The rage that had cooled her earlier was now exciting her. Pansy knew she should be upset that someone had dared to meddle in her affairs, but too much time had passed since she had had a decent opponent beyond the newspapers. She'd never expected how greatly she would miss her school years until after the War ended.

Slytherin was not, as many of the other Houses suspected, a den of vice and evil. Students in Slytherin were born of ambition and used the House to forge connections, practice politics, and increase the sly nature and, often, loose ethics that the Sorting Hat had uncovered within them. To fuel ambition, they competed frequently. Some fought battles of strength and competency. Draco's guards were rarely bested in those regards. Others strove for ever-increasing subtlety in their magic. Daphne Greengrass, the ever strange and quiet, was never fooled by concealment or magic. She identified charms without effort and found people no matter how sneakily they hid. She claimed she heard everything, but Pansy was not sure if that was truth or story. Misdirection was one of the first lessons Slytherin imparted. Pansy missed the long conversations in which one person would describe a location, a room, a fortress, a hidden glen, and the others would try to breach it. Every attack would be parried and every parry routed. Of course that game had taken a rather different cast later on when Draco found the weakness in Hogwarts' protections.

The idea of a new contest with real stakes and a clever, unknown opponent thrilled Pansy. She sent off Brown, Turpin, and Thomas partially wanting them to succeed and partially wanting the Other to counter.

Smith arrived with the first group of post-lunch students. Then, Davies with his a half hour later. Davies had two students missing, which was one less than Pansy had anticipated. The one who arrived admitted to using the owl he'd bought in Diagon to find the closest witch or wizard, in his case, Nirav Patil, the father of the Patil twins, to talk with his parents. After several long discussions and another trip to the Wizarding World, his parents had agreed to let him attend. Pansy made a note to thank Mr. Patil later and let the boy go play with the other students.

Shortly after Davies returned, Adrian joined Pansy in the arrival area. He had the annoying smile on his face that he got whenever he knew something others did not.

"I thought you were going to the continent," Pansy said.

"Our new librarian will bring over Slurryhill when he arrives."

"You know who the librarian is," Pansy said.

The smile broadened. "I do. We had a rather nice conversation."

"Lovely. Has anyone told you about the letter yet?" Pansy knew he wanted her to ask more about the librarian and so she did not.

"Only that it exists."

"Indeed." Pansy outlined everything she had discovered during the lunch period and her plan.

"Have you run that scheme by McGonagall yet?" Adrian asked.

"I was rather hoping to present it _fait accompli_."

Adrian laughed under his breath. "Of course. She won't be happy."

"No," Pansy admitted, "but she is not culpable for what she does not know. If the Board of Governors protest, then only I will be blamed." Pansy felt disgustingly self-sacrificing for such a suggestion, but she knew that no other arrangement would work half so well. McGonagall was a king on the board for Hogwarts; she had to be protected. Pansy only wished she knew how many people she was playing against.

"You think they will?"

"Protest? Certainly. I am promising to allow students to contact Muggles via Floo. Either their homes will have to be connected to the Network or the Muggles will have to be taken to a fireplace that already is.

"So why make a promise you know they'll hate?"

"I want to see how they react."

"You suspect one of them?"

"Unlikely, but I should like to rule the possibility out. Besides, I believe that the Board will become a source of frustration in the future and it will be helpful to know where the members' loyalties and ideologies lie."

"Of course. Any ideas on who wrote the letter yet?"

"Some, none of them very pleasant." She pulled the empty envelope from her robes and passed it to Adrian. He waved his wand over the paper and cast a spell that would allow him to briefly see the magics laid over or that had been laid over the paper. All Arithmancy students learned it; Pansy had learned from Draco.

"Concealment and--"

"Confusion," Pansy finished for him. "I noticed those. Do you see anything else? I still cannot make my image very sharp."

Adrian cast the spell again and frowned. "That looks like--" he stopped. "Every Muggleborn received one of these letters?"

"They did. What did you see?"

"A mild compulsion charm, probably to make the letter more believable."

"An illegal charm, interesting. Do you notice anything else odd about the envelope?" Pansy asked.

"Looks pretty standard to me."

Pansy folded her arms. "Adrian, I do know you are more capable than this. A hint, whose standard?"

"Muggle, but I don't see how that makes a difference."

Pansy took back the enveloped and flipped it over so that she could see the stamp and address. She pressed her lips together. "Perhaps I am merely being paranoid again," she said, and she slipped the envelope back into her robes. "So, who is our mysterious librarian?"

Adrian grinned. "You'll see at dinner like everyone else. Now, what can I do to help?"

"Babysit. Greengrass and Jamison are playing with the children."

"Jamison?" Adrian asked, his voice slightly strangled.

Pansy raised her brows. "Is that a problem?" she asked.

Adrian glared. "No." He walked back to the Pitch.

"Adrian, wait." Pansy stopped him. He clearly had no desire to be near Jamison and, while that information was interesting and Pansy certainly did wish to observe his behavior around Jamison, pushing Adrian toward the mysterious Caretaker would only result in a tetchy Adrian. She had too many other issues to resolve to create another one. "Actually, could you locate Thomas, Turpin, and Brown and inform them about the compulsion? That could aid their efforts, I'm sure."

Adrian nodded and Apparated. Pansy settled into her chair and waited for the next group to arrive. The rest of the day passed without incident.

By evening all students were safe and counted. Three had fled to the continent, but Adrian assured her that their librarian had all in tow. Others had been hidden in basements or with other relatives. Pansy's delegation had worked hard to locate each child and win their parents' support. The last three were those that had left the isles. When Pansy, standing with McGonagall and Madame Hooch to greet the new additions to their school, saw who the librarian was, she understood Adrian's smug amusement earlier that day. She, too, would have treated the man's identity as a most delicious secret. Viktor Krum was nothing if not unexpected. Pansy just hoped he could tend to books as well as he could fly.

"Thank you, Mr. Krum for bringing us the last of our wayward students," McGonagall said.

"It was no trouble," Krum said. "They haff promised to help me in the library."

"Have they now?" McGonagall said. "Welcome to Hogwarts," she said to the students. "I am Professor McGonagall. I am your headmistress. This is Professor Parkinson, my deputy, and Madame Hooch, your flight inspector. Madame Hooch, would you mind escorting Mr. Krum and the students to the Great Hall?"

"Not at all. This way." Madame Hooch, Krum, and the three students left the office. McGonagall turned to Pansy.

"I hear you have been keeping secrets from me." McGonagall's face was neutral. Not for the first time, Pansy wondered how McGonagall had become a Gryffindor. She seemed far too sly and subtle for the House.

"I have."

"And?"

Pansy pulled the letter and envelope from her robes and gave them to McGonagall. "The parents of each of our Muggleborn first year students received a copy of this letter approximately one week ago. The envelope is layered with concealment, confusion, and compulsion charms. The letter is masterful and convincing enough that only a few of the students whose parents read this letter still made it to the portkey locations."

"I see. How did you convince the parents to allow their students to attend our school?" Pansy explained her plan involving the Floo and visits. Rather than the anger Pansy had expected, McGonagall seemed intrigued. "You will be doing this," she said once Pansy finished. "I do not know if you intended to follow through when you made the promises, but you will be doing so now."

"I always keep my promises," Pansy said.

"Good." McGongall tapped her finger against the edge of the envelope. "One last thing, Professor."

"Yes?"

"Are all of the letters addressed this way?" She held up the envelope as example.

"I believe so."

"Find out how they got the addresses."

Pansy's eyes widened and her estimation of McGonagall rose. "The only place with that sort of information is the student roster," she said. "How many copies of that are there?"

McGonagall's thin lips pressed together grimly. "Two. The one created by the Quill in my offices and the copy that I gave to you this summer."

"They must have used mine. If anyone finds out--," Pansy said.

"They will say the letters were yours."

"Yes." Pansy had reached this conclusion before she had even met with the other professors about the letter. At first she had blamed herself for being too willing to see monsters within shadows, a notion that Adrian had inadvertently confirmed, but now the Headmistress was suggesting the same. "I will oversee the visitations myself." The more she could divide herself from anti-Muggle sentiments the better.

"That may be best," she said. "As for the copied roster--"

"I will task Draco with recovering it," Pansy said. "If we've any luck, they will only have the names of the students they contacted."

"Luck, Professor? I did not realize that Slytherins believed in such a thing."

"We know it exists; we simply are not fond of it."

McGonagall smiled. "You know, Pro-- Pansy," she paused and Pansy nodded slightly, granting the permission to her given name. "I may actually enjoy working with you."

"Likewise, Headmistress."

"Minerva," McGonagall corrected. Pansy repeated her name. From someone as stately and old-fashioned as McGonagall, this was either a sign of friendship or respect. Pansy hoped the latter. She followed McGonagall out of the office; and, together, they descended the tower and entered the pandemonium of the Great Hall.


End file.
